


wrong direction

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Author knows nothing politics, Enemies to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hate Sex, Hook-up then feelings, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Politics, Politics are background noise, That Is Eventually Resolved, This is honestly just a dumb romcom, Thor is stubborn, UST, Unreliable Narrator, loki is a little shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-05-23 09:26:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14931608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Thor decides to blow off some steam before the launch of his father's political campaign and things go wrong, very wrong, before they finally go right.





	1. dagger at work

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first time writing in ages and my first time writing Thor/Loki ever. I just had an idea and ran with it. That said, I know next to nothing about politics so forgive me for butchering the political system. Though, honestly, there won't be much of it. I hopefully got all the errors out, but if you happen to spot one please tell me and I will fix it up! That said, I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> Edit:  
> This is now finished! I feel like the end my be a little rough/rushed, so I apologize. I just wanted to give them a happy ending instead of ending up in WIP limbo.
> 
> This was my first piece of writing in over three years so it’s a little rough around the edges in some parts. Still, I appreciate every ounce of feedback. <3 Thank you. 
> 
> This is definitely the piece I used to find and develop my voice as an author. 
> 
> The work and chapter titles are from a Passenger song called The Wrong Direction.

Thor truly tried not to stew in the regret of his earlier decision, but as the loud music pulsed through his head and a fifth beer thrummed through his veins- it was hard not to.

The bar was packed thick with intoxicated bodies, moving fluidly to a beat beneath strobing pink lights. Thor, on the other hand, sat as still at the bar and tried to nonchalantly scan the crowd for Brunnhilde. He attempted to look bored or, at the very least, unamused.

It wasn’t that he _wasn't_ interested in picking someone up. In fact, he was _very_ interested. A quick hook-up was probably exactly what he needed to calm his nerves. No, Thor, for once in his life, was trying to be responsible. Naturally, the best way to do that was going to a bar to get wasted the night before his father’s first big press conference.

Fucked.

He was _fucked_.

 

* * *

 

Originally, Thor had every intention of retiring to bed early. He had already changed into his fresh pajamas, heated up some leftovers, and settled into his couch with remote in hand. He really shouldn’t have answered the door when Brunnhilde came knocking like the police.

She had stood, propped on the doorframe, taking in Thor’s embarrassingly domestic appearance with thinly concealed judgment. “You’re wearing _that_ ,” she had said with a roll of her shoulders and a quirk of her eyebrow, “alright then.”

He should have just told her no, Brunnhilde was…she was very hard to say no to. So, when she pushed past him and made her way into his apartment like she owned the place, he didn’t put up much of a fight. He didn’t tell her no when she turned off the TV with a pointed click of the remote. He didn’t tell her no when she stalked to his bedroom and threw a glance over her shoulder and beckoned him to follow.

Typically, in a scenario such as this, _this_ was the part where his clothes started coming off. Instead, when he rounded the corner, his clothes were being thrown at him.

“Get dressed, I’ll be waiting in the car,” she said as she shoved his red blazer into his chest.

Well, he didn’t say no then either.

The thing about Brunnhilde was that she commanded the attention of everyone, everywhere, and she always got it. She was pretty, with dark skin and darker hair, but that wasn’t her trick. She was ruthless, confident, and dominant. If Thor had even been slightly her type, he probably would have been tripping over himself years ago. It was no wonder his father had picked her as his right-hand woman for his campaign. She was the face in front of the camera most days; deflecting and spinning and sometimes even antagonizing the reporters.  

She had earned the nickname _Valkyrie_ well.

When he reluctantly climbed into the passenger seat, she gave him an approving nod. _Obviously. S_ he had picked the dark jeans, gray shirt, and muted red blazer herself, after all.

“Trust me, Odinson, you need this,” she stated and slammed the car into drive.

Thor, well, _he still didn’t say no_.

 

* * *

 

 

He should have though, he thought absently.

He had long given up on his search for Brunnhilde. The last he had seen her, she was confidently saddling up next to a pretty blonde, all charming smiles.  

Thor lifted his bottle slightly, frowning at the empty weight and sat it back down with a hollow thud. A sixth beer probably wouldn’t hurt.

Right as he was about to flag down the bartender, he felt a solid presence at his side and a tender hand on the middle of his back. He was tipsy enough that his muscles didn’t tense at the contact and he tried, probably failing, to look over casually.

It was a man, and he wasn’t even looking at him. Instead, he was smiling at the bartender and his lips moved, but Thor couldn’t understand what he was saying. He was handsome- no, scratch that, he was _beautiful_. His profile was sharp and elegant and his dark hair was swept back gracefully to accentuate his perfect cheekbones.

Thor wasn’t fully aware that he was staring until the man turned to him fully. Thor licked his lips and large, green eyes tracked the movement; a sly, wicked smile curled on the stranger's mouth.

“Drink?” he offered, his voice smooth and lightly accented.

It took a moment for the cogs in Thor’s head to start turning again.

 _Get it together Odinson_.

He can do this, he can flirt. He has done it countless times.

The panic and shock fell from his face and he quickly replaced with a grin that, he’s been told on good authority, is charming. He lifts his empty bottle and shakes its non-existent contents, “You read my mind.”

The guy laughed lightly at that and Thor realized that he had already ordered two beers and was now sliding one in his direction.

“It’s a shame you can’t read mine,” the man says, casually stroking the neck of his bottle. Thor nearly choked on his badly timed swig of beer, that earned him another smooth smile.

The man leaned closer and Thor didn’t back down. He had enough bar hook-ups to know where this was going and even though he had told himself that he wasn’t going to- he was now seriously contemplating it. That was before this calm, calculating stranger had bought him a drink, after all.

The space between their faces was closing fast, but the man stopped short of a breath apart. “Loki,” he said, alcohol-riddled breath ghosting across Thor’s lips. “My name,” he supplied because Thor must have looked confused, “I figured you should know.”

He couldn’t think too hard about the implications of that follow-up unless he wanted to pop a boner right here at the bar.

Loki pulled back, an expectant look etched on his face. “Well?”

Right, introductions.

 _Shit_.

His father’s political campaign. It probably wouldn’t look great if it got out that Thor, son of Odin, was hooking up with handsome strangers in bars the night before their first official press conference.

Thor panicked.

“Bruce,” he said with too much reluctance. And _holy shit_ , Bruce was going to kill him if he ever found out that he used his name as an alias for a one-night-stand. Wait- was this where this is was even going?

Loki arched a dark brow, an amused smirk still present. In all honesty, it would probably be infuriating and condescending if he wasn’t so hot and Thor wasn’t so drunk and wanting.

“Well, _Bruce_ ,” the way he said it let Thor know he didn’t believe him. Again, that would probably bother him if Loki wasn’t slowly taking an exaggerated drink from his bottle, leaning back into Thor’s personal space, purposely licking a drop of beer from his lips. “This bar is a little loud,” he continues- _oh_ , is that why he’s so close? “Why don’t we go somewhere more private and talk?”

Thor swallowed visibly. He hadn’t even noticed he had lost control of the situation. He probably never even had it.

“Or,” Loki proposes, “we can go to the bathroom and I can suck that cock of yours.”

Thor’s brain short-circuited, instantly painfully aware of how hard he was becoming and how Loki stared at his lap with a dark gaze.

“Or, maybe,” he continued, softly running his knuckles up and down Thor’s denim-clad thigh, “I can make you feel so good that you tell me your real name. I bet you’d love the way it sounds coming from my lips.”

 _Fuck_. 

“While you’re making me beg for it,” Loki moved his hand higher, firmly placing his palm against Thor’s straining erection. He tried not to groan, only vaguely aware that they were in public. He gives a light, playful squeeze and pulls away and Thor whined at the lack of contact.

His resolve broke; crumbled; turned to ash.

“Let’s go,” Thor mumbled gruffly, afraid of how desperate his own voice sounded. He grabbed Loki’s wrist and tugged them both up. There was a strange look on Loki’s face and Thor couldn’t quite place it. Triumph, maybe? Whatever it was, it was mixed heavily with lust.

“After you, _Bruce_ ,” Loki hissed and shoved him through the crowd and towards the single-stalled bathroom in the far corner.

 

* * *

 

In any other scenario, Thor would have found this disgusting. The bathroom was probably riddled with germs and an unsettling amount of bodily fluids. It wasn’t the only bathroom in the club, that would have been chaos. It was, however, the most convenient for situations like this. In fact, if he had to guess, that’s probably why it was there. No one came in here alone. Not when there was a fully functional, much cleaner and larger bathroom on the other end of the building.

None of that really mattered though. As soon as they were in, Loki had him pushed against the door with a hand reaching behind to lock it. Then, instantly, his mouth was on his with all the fever that he had promised.

Thor tried to catch up, but his mind was sluggish and his arms felt too heavy. 

Loki had been so confident and downright _hot_ in the dark, warm glow of the club, but now- under the fluorescent lights of the bathroom- Thor could see he was just as debauched as he was. _Good._ Loki pulled back from his lips with a growl and that’s when he realized he hadn’t been kissing back. Loki’s chest was heaving beneath the all-black suit. His long hair was already losing its composure and his eyes and lips were red.

“What?” he asked sharply, “Second thoughts?”

“No,” Thor shook his head like that would loosen the alcohols grip on his mind. Loki looked at him, curious and expectant. Say something smooth, something sexy, _something_.

“You’re beautiful.”

What. No, not that. Stupid, _stupid_ , drunk brain.

For a small second, Loki’s façade cracked- but it was only for a moment. If Thor had blinked, he would have missed it. Quickly, recovering, he gave a mirthless chuckle. “You don’t have to be so poetic, I’m going to make you come regardless.”

Thor’s dick twitched in his jeans and Loki took notice, the sly smirk back on his lips. He took a step forward and placed his hands on either side of Thor's hips and pressed hard into the muscle there, squeezing out a soft moan. His grip loosened, and his eyes raked themselves over Thor’s body while his thumbs rubbed small, reassuring circles into his skin.

It was a lot more tender than Thor had expected. Loki must have noticed his gentleness too because, with a low growl, the force was back in an instant. Thor found himself being turned quickly until Loki was the one pressed against the wall. He jerked Thor forward and started working at the buttons of his jeans, his breath coming out in short, impatient huffs.

Thor, on the other hand, took this time to lean in and press an open-mouth kiss on the warm skin of Loki’s neck, feeling him shudder beneath him and relishing in it. He couldn't help but bite back a moan as Loki roughly shoved his jeans and underwear down in one go.

He suddenly felt very exposed and unraveled and Loki hadn’t even properly touched him yet.

The anticipation made him ache and he breathed heavy into the crook of Loki’s neck. Shit, he was already on the verge of begging. He couldn’t risk a glance at Loki’s face because he knew that if he looked anything like he currently felt, it would be over.

Instead, he managed a quiet, “Please.” Loki tensed slightly against the door, but he still wasn’t moving or touching.

“ _Loki_.”

Whatever static in the air that was stopping this from happening disappeared with that desperate plea.

Loki sank to his knees and Thor willed himself to look. He was beautiful, his drunk brain was right about that. Finally, _finally_ , Loki took him in his hand and it was like the skies opened. Okay, _maybe too poetic_. He gave an experimental stroke of his hand and swiped a thumb over the beading head and Thor couldn't stop the moan that fell from his lips. This seemed to please Loki because did it again, humming with satisfaction when he pulled the same noise again. 

“I want,” Loki began in a teasing tone with a couple graceful tugs. Thor was prepared to give him anything. “I want,” he said trying again and licking his lips, “you to fuck my face.”

 _Seriously?_ Thor was going to fucking lose it.

Loki looked up at him with big, red-rimmed, green eyes. He looked almost innocent, but even with his head clouded with beer, Thor knew that wasn’t true.

“Can you do that for me?” Loki gave a sloppy kiss to the head of his dick and Thor’s brain and body finally got with the program.

He didn’t need telling twice. He pushed Loki’s head back until it was flush with the door and buried his hands in dark hair. Loki’s grin was positively smug, and Thor had every intention of fucking it right off his face.

The tender moments and awkward stalling were gone. Loki asked, and Thor was happy to deliver. He pushed forward and was met with a warm, hot mouth and muffled moan. Loki couldn’t move his head from his position with the vice grip that Thor had on his hair, so there was no choice but to rut into his mouth, chasing a release that he was afraid was going to happen all too soon.

Loki only choked a couple of times, and his watery eyes stared intensely up at him, urging him not to stop and to work through it. Thor was so caught up in his own pleasure he almost hadn’t noticed Loki pulling himself out and stroking frantically, without much finesse.

Thor was almost upset, he was wanting to do that himself. But, _holy shit_ , the sight of Loki’s hand working himself while his own dick disappeared in and out of those perfect lips was enough to send him over the edge. He stuttered and tried to pull away, but Loki’s free hand shot up and planted itself firmly on his ass and pushed him back in.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he hissed, feeling himself losing control from the umpteenth time that night. “Fuck, _Loki_ , fuck…”

Loki’s eyes screwed shut as he spilled in his mouth and through the blinding white pleasure, he heard a gargled moan and felt Loki’s body seize beneath him, pulsing over his own hand.

Unsurprisingly, the post-orgasm haze lifted quickly in an old, dirty bathroom.

Thor pushed himself back and felt his soft cock pop from the suction of Loki’s fucked-out lips. Loki was already tucking himself back into his pants, obviously eager to leave the awkward tension- so, Thor did the same.

He offered a hand to help drag him from the floor, and Loki hesitated before taking it with pursed lips. Thor could practically see the wheels turning in his head and soon enough the cocky, confident mask was back.

“I would offer coming back to my place,” Loki said slowly, teasing; but, damn it, if his spent cock didn’t twitch a little at the thought of getting Loki in a proper bed. “But,” he drawled, _always the but_ , “I have a very big day tomorrow. I can’t afford the temptation of laying in bed all day.”

“Right,” Thor said, ever eloquent, “Same here. I really shouldn’t have come out tonight.”

Loki scrubbed his hands beneath the sink, “Aren’t you glad you did?” He shook his hands to dispel the excess water.

“Very,” Thor replied and it wasn't a lie.

Speaking of a lie, he should probably tell Loki his real name. Loki, however, was already at the door, swinging it open to the remind them both where they were.

“Hey, wait- Loki!”

Loki stopped, turning mischievously like he had been waiting for it.

“We will be seeing each other again soon, don’t worry.”

Then he was gone.

 

* * *

 

 

Thor isn’t sure how long he stood in the bathroom, door and mouth hanging open- regret creeping up.

_Damn it._

The regret was less from his tumble with a stranger and more so because he didn’t get that stranger’s number. Instead, he was just left with an ominous message that they would see each other again. _Soon_. Like he knew.

_Double damn it._

He finally regained composure, pushing himself through the crowd and out the door into the fresh, night air. His lungs thanked him.

He tried to tell himself that he wasn’t looking from a dark suit in the huddles of people flagging down taxies.

“Hey, where the hell have you been?”

Brunnhilde. Right.

He turned, doing his best not to look guilty. However, this was Brunnhilde, the Valkyrie, he was talking about. Her eyes lit with recognition the moment he looked at her.

“You little minx,” she laughed and shoved an accusatory finger at him, taking a step forward and prodding his chest with it. “You hooked up with someone? Didn’t you?”

His eyes refused to make contact, which, in hindsight, gave himself away more than his flushed cheeks. He could deny it, but what was the point?

“Shut up,” he mumbled instead, though the words held no real venom. “I need to get out of here.”

Brunnhilde just smirked and nodded, waving down one of the many taxis lined against the street taking advantage of the intoxicated patrons stumbling out.

“Right,” she said knowingly, “let’s get you home. I have to say though, I’m impressed. Do you get a name? A number?”

“Loki.”

“Weird name.”

“Weirder guy,” Thor gave a light laugh that definitely wasn’t wistful.

“I’m sure. He hooked-up with you, didn’t he?” Brunnhilde gave him a teasing smirk and ushered him into the back of the car. “Go home and get some rest. Big day tomorrow.”

Thor just swallowed, head spinning, and nodded. “You too, don’t get too drunk.”

“Never,” she lied and shut the door.

Thor didn’t remember giving the taxi driver his address or walking up the stairs to his apartment or letting his head hit his pillow.

He did, however, remember wide green eyes and a cunning smile.

 

* * *

 

 

“We have a problem,” Brunnhilde slammed a stack of paperclipped files onto the desk. The loud crack sent a sharp pain through Thor’s hungover brain.

 _You have no idea_ , Thor wanted to say. 

Stark, his father’s campaign manager, sighed loudly and ran a hand over his face. “Right out of the gate? Perfect.”

His partner, Romanov, sat silently beside him, eyeing the papers with a quirked brow. Odin, Thor’s father, the Councilman currently running for Congress, was sitting with his typical pensive expression. He looked stoic, calm, and not at all nervous but, Thor could see the slight twitch in his fingers where they rest on the table.

“Well?” Odin prompted.

“Laufeyson is bringing his son onto his campaign,” Brunnhilde watched for their reactions and sighed when all she received was blank stares. “Not Byleistr or Helblindi.”

“There are more of them? Jesus Christ,” Stark, once again, rubbed his hand down his face. At this rate, he was going to rub his goatee right off.

“Loptr,” Brunnhilde states flatly, “He is young but has managed to fly under the radar. Sent off to some boarding school overseas and recently graduated with a law degree.”

“So,” Thor decided to finally put himself in the present, “how is this a problem exactly?”

“Well, other than being able to find almost nothing- “

“Loptr Laufeyson has a reputation for being a snake,” Natasha interjected, her eyes never leaving the paper she had plucked from Brunnhilde’s stack. “ _Silver-tongued_ , I think they call him. If he is as good as they say, he could be a real threat.”

“So, he’s some asshole who thinks he is a smooth-talker? You forget you have one of those yourself,” Stark flashed a toothy grin and held out his arms in a show. “He might be good, but we are better.”

Thor smiled through the pain of his hangover. He was really getting too old for late-night alcohol, apparently. His eyes flickered back to his dad who was also allowing a small smile.

“Tony is right,” Odin spoke up. Whether or not he was referring to Stark being an asshole or them being better, Thor wasn’t sure. It was probably both. “Today is all about establishing a platform and letting the people know what we are about and who we are. Loptr, if he can, won’t be able to do much damage today.”

There were many times that Thor didn’t completely agree with his father, especially growing up. Still, he couldn’t deny that he had a commanding presence and head for politics. It made working alongside him with his campaign tolerable, even though sometimes the meetings bored him to tears. Still, if Thor had a choice, he wouldn’t be here. Stark had insisted that Thor make himself a presence under the pretense that the father/son dynamic would give off a “strong family vibe”. Thor couldn’t really disagree. Not to mention, he could be charming when he wanted, and he knew that he was handsome. Odin was running for Congress, but Thor was the face for the younger generation.

“Ready?” Brunnhilde prompted.

 

* * *

 

Thor was not ready.

The camera lights were too bright, and he felt his headache intensifying by the millisecond.

Luckily, Thor didn’t have to do much today. Just stand beside his father and smile for the most part. Easy enough. He didn’t even have to pay attention; his father spoke, and the reporters asked questions. Thor kept on smiling.

Then he stopped. Abruptly.

No.

No.

 _No_.

Laufeyson was entering the stage with his crew to the opposite podium. Trailing behind the old man was Loki. He was dressed in a sleek, slimming suit; his hair that had been thoroughly disheveled last night was slicked back neatly. His face was the same though. Calculating and crafty. Not Loki though, _Loptr_.

Suddenly he was being nudged in his side. Brunnhilde was looking at him with a slight panic in her dark eyes. She smiled widely as if to say, _what the fuck are you doing with your face?_

He tried, he really did. But his mouth wouldn’t twitch into anything past a frown. He just kept staring at Loki who, by the way, hadn’t even glanced over. Loki had no problem playing his role. He was all grins and small waves as the camera flashed before him.

Then his eyes snapped over and locked onto Thor and that polite smile twisted into something sinister. That single look automatically told him all he needed to know; that Loki was playing a game and he intended to win.

Thor, however, just wanted to puke.

“Thor?”

Odin was staring at him, concern and frustration on his face. He heard a camera click and it brought him back to reality. He was being asked something, but he hadn’t been listening.

“Do you agree?”

His mouth was dry, and he was afraid that he wasn’t going to be able to speak over the lump in his throat. What the fuck was he supposed to say? At least it was a yes-or-no question. 50/50 chance of making a fool of himself.

Thor leaned too far into the mic and his nose scrapped against it creating a high-pitched squeal of feedback. Well, there goes not making a fool of himself.

“Yes,” he tried not to pose it as a question, and quickly scanned the faces of the audience to make sure that was an acceptable answer. All the reporters were nodding and scribbling on their notepads. A wave of relief washed over him, so he gave a curt nod and raised back up.

He could practically feel Brunnhilde on fire next to him. At least, Thor thought, she was going to kill him then this would all be over.

The introductions and questions seemed to last a lifetime. Odin spoke, Laufey spoke, Loki spoke…thankfully no one asked Thor to speak again.

When it was over, Thor was the first to leave the stage. Pushing past his father and Brunnhilde, practically running past Stark and Romanov, and trying to find the closest area of solitude possible.

Water, too. He needed water before he passed the fuck out.

Luckily, his sanctuary wasn’t too far off. He rounded a corner and practically cried when he saw the water fountain free of cameras and press.

If this convention center had been a desert- this was Thor’s oasis.

The water was almost unbearably cold and had a metallic aftertaste, which in all fairness, was typical as far as water fountains went. He gulped it down until it ran down his chin and he briefly wondered if he could just drown himself like this.

“You know, I didn’t think you looked like a Bruce.”

Thor stilled. He didn’t have to look up to know who that voice belonged to. He screwed his eyes shut like Loki was the boogeyman, and if he pretended long enough that he wasn’t there, he would just disappear.

No such luck. Thor didn’t seem to have a lot of it.

“Such a small, small world. Isn’t it?”

Thor sighed, wiped away the water still clinging to his scruff with the back of his hand, and stood, squaring his shoulders. So, they were going to do this. Loki wasn’t going to let them pretend nothing had happened.

“Is it?” Anger was beginning to cut through and dominant his uncomfortableness. “Yes, what a highly unusual _coincidence_ this is.”

Loki feigned insult, mouth in a fake gasp with his hand on his chest. “You think I planned this? I’ll be honest, I would be truly insulted if I wasn’t so flattered.”

“I know that you did,” Thor grumbled, attempting to make his voice more menacing than he was feeling. He was mad, furious even. Still, it was hard to shake the awkwardness of knowing that the man in front of him had been on his knees not even twenty-four hours prior.

Loki gave a light laugh, folding his arms across his chest. “I didn’t know who you were,” he sounded sincere and Thor almost believed him, then- “ _at first_. When it clicked, I realized that this was the perfect opportunity for a bit of fun.”

He was so calm about it, he could have been talking about the weather on a Sunday morning. It made Thor want to punch him.

 _Or_ , his brain supplied, _make him shut up another way._

Nope, no way.

“You tricked me. I would have never done…that,” he mumbles the last part like a goddamn middle schooler, “if I had of known who you were.”

Loki blinks once, then twice. “I didn’t lie about that. I told you exactly who I was.”

“Loki doesn’t sound like Loptr.”

“It’s a nickname,” he shrugged like it was obvious.

“It’s a trick,” Thor pressed.

Loki smiled again, but this time it was more suggestive. “You haven’t even seen all my tricks yet. But, I bet there are some you would very much like to see.”

He took a step towards him, causing Thor to take a step back, stumbling against the water fountain and then the wall. Back pressed against the brick, Loki had him cornered and Thor hated how his own body betrayed him. A cold sweat was breaking out on his forehead and Loki was even closer, practically touching, but not quite. His head was leaning toward him, a hand planted firmly on the wall beside Thor’s head. Suddenly there was a breath ghosting along the shell of his ear and Thor had to physically restrain his hips from pressing forward.

“Do you?” Loki whispered, and Thor felt it through his entire body.

“ _What_?”

“Do you want to see them?”

“No,” Thor knew he sounded unsure and Loki did too. There was nothing but amusement sparkling in his wide eyes. It’s the only thing that anchored the realization that this was a game to Loki. So, a little stronger and stern, “ _No_.”

Loki’s face dropped at that like he hadn’t expected Thor to deny him. Why would he? Thor had practically followed his every beck and call the night before. There probably weren’t many people lining up to deny him to begin with.

“Why not?” He sounded like a child who didn’t get his way. He was practically pouting.

Thor couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of him.

“Seriously? Are you mad? My father,” he pointed in the vague direction of where the meeting had just ended, “and your father are running against each other for office.”

Loki shrugged again.

“We,” a finger waving between each of them, “shouldn’t even be talking without others present much less…anything else.”

He wasn’t going to say it.

“Fucking?” Loki goes ahead and says it.

“Shut up,” he hissed through his teeth, “ _shut up_.”

Loki stood there for a moment, just staring. It was absolutely unnerving. Then he took another step forward, reaching for the lapels of Thor’s suit jacket and for a fleeting moment, Thor thinks he is going to kiss him.

He also decided not to put a name to the feeling invoked in him when he doesn’t. He refused to call it a disappointment. Instead, Loki is tucking a business card into the small pocket on the inside of his jacket, patting his chest when it’s securely placed inside.

“In case you ever want to talk about the campaign,” then he turned to leave, walking with careful and confident strides.

“Wait, here let me give you mine,” Thor scrambles to find a card that he knows is shoved into one of his pant pockets. He isn’t really sure why, but that would be the professional thing to do. Right?

“No need,” Loki doesn’t even turn around, “already have it.”

Of course he does. Loki is always two steps ahead.

 

* * *

 

 

Brunnhilde stayed hidden on her perch against the wall, examining her cuticles like they are the most interesting things in the world. She didn’t want to draw attention to the fact she was eavesdropping.

When Loptr had first walked out, she had her suspicions. Thor really, really _, really_ didn’t hide his emotions well. It was only natural that she followed them.

This was a fucking mess. A mess that she didn’t get paid enough to clean, but, was going to have to anyway.

She was going to have to get the upper hand from Loptr, or Loki, or whatever his name was. Fortunately, Tony was right. They were good. Unfortunately, Brunnhilde now was pretty sure Loki might be a little bit better.

 


	2. heart of plastic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor and Loki redefine the meaning of "extending an olive branch".

“So, _Loptr_ …” Brunnhilde was being annoyingly inquisitive, raking her fingers along the spines of books that hadn’t been opened in years, feigning interest; utterly failing at being casual.

Thor pinched the bridge of his nose, willing his headache away; the business card burning from it's home in his jacket pocket.

“What about him?”

Brunnhilde stopped abruptly, turning towards him with an accusatory stare, “I was hoping, actually, that you could tell me. You both seemed awful chummy at the water fountain.”

His heart stopped and leapt to his throat; Thor was pretty sure that if he opened his mouth, it would roll right off his tongue.

“That…that was nothing, really, just a friendly introduction,” his heart didn’t fall out of his mouth, and for that, he forced a smile. He hoped it was reassuring.

It wasn’t.

“That was the friendliest introduction I’ve ever seen. I’d hate to see how he greets an old friend.”

An image of their actual first meeting flashed through his mind; toothy smiles, fingers coaxing the neck of a bottle, hands shoving him against a wall, Loki sinking to his knees. Yeah, he decided _not_ to explain that their actual first introduction resulted in Loptr Laufeyson telling him to fuck his face.

 _Honestly_ , Thor thought, _that should have been the first alarm_. Who does that?

Realization clicked on Brunnhilde’s face and she let out a groan.

“The bar,” she stated flatly like it had been obvious. Maybe it was. “Jesus Christ, Thor. Please don’t tell me Laufeyson was your drunk hook-up.”

Her face was pleading but he knew there is no point in lying. He could feel his cheeks heating, that alone would give it away. So instead, he said, “Okay, I won’t.”

Maybe that would be the end of it. Brunnhilde would accept that as an okay answer. Loki would drop out of his father’s campaign and go back to whatever hell he came from. Odin would win the race. Thor would move away, far away, and buy a house and maybe a goat.

 _Maybe_ , but no such luck.

“This…this might actually help us,” she said. It was better than the expected rage, but somehow, way more unsettling. Thor didn’t like that calculating twinkle in her eyes. “You’ve royally fucked up, don’t get me wrong, but we might be able to use this as an advantage.”

Thor quirked an eyebrow at her. He was following, to a degree, but he was really hoping he wasn’t.

“Think about it. We know next to nothing about Loptr- “

“Loki,” Thor corrected and shrugged when Brunnhilde shot him a murderous glare.

“We know next to nothing about _Loki_. You have the ability to get close to him, maybe he lets loose some information regarding his father- “

“No,” Thor said sternly, ignoring Brunnhilde’s clear aggravation at being cut off a second time. Looking as though she is going to argue, Thor stopped her before she could finish, “I’m not going to play spy.”

Brunnhilde threw her hands up in defeat.

“Fine, Odinson, fine,” she picked up her blazer that was thrown across the back of Thor’s kitchen chair, pulling it on in one swift motion. “Just don’t do anything stupid, okay?"

Thor nodded and hoped that was a sufficient promise.

 

* * *

 

 

There was a sleek, glossy, black business card laying in the top of Thor’s trash can. He walked past it, stared for a painful minute and plucked it out. Loki’s number gleamed in silver text.

He threw it back down.

He picked it back up.

He shoved it deep in his wallet behind a frozen yogurt gift card that had expired nearly a year ago.

He was _not_ going to call Loki Laufeyson.

 

* * *

 

 

Thor didn’t call Loki and it only took a week for him to stop thinking about calling him. He chalked up the desire to excess adrenaline and lust. He couldn’t deny the memory of the bathroom provided a bit of fodder for when he got a little too handsy in the shower. Thor liked Loki’s mouth, just not the things that came out of it.

Or, that's what he told himself.

By week two, Thor had only thought of Loki once. It had been harmless enough, he had walked by a jewelry storefront and a serpent necklace glistened, catching his eye. He told himself it was because Loki was a lying snake and _not_ because the encrusted emeralds reminded him of piercing eyes.

On week three, Thor had a polite interview with a local news station and he didn’t trip over his words or stumble at all. He later read an article concluding that his first appearance must have been a case of jitters and then went on to praise him for his charm and bravado. Thor grinned smugly at that and bought the paper to take home for tangible proof that he wasn't a complete failure.

Loki had an interview too, but when Stark and company had sat down to watch it, Thor excused himself.

During week four, Thor realized his life was measured in “ _weeks since I met Loki Laufeyson_ ”.

He blamed that particular realization for the way his heart tingled when his phone vibrated with a text from Loki. So, what? He  _may_ have programmed the number into his phone. He was vulnerable, that’s all.

 _Shit_.

Somehow, Loki managed to taunt him unknowingly from miles away via technology. It wasn’t even Loki, just his name. The impending message attached to the name was antagonizing and an internal war raged within Thor on whether he should open or delete it.

He moved from his kitchen table, flinging himself onto the couch. If he was more comfortable, the right decision would come to him.

Maybe it was just something super casual; just a “hey, what’s up?” or “how are you?” No, no. That was far too tame for Loki. It was probably something suggestive and flirty. It more than likely had a winky face. Would Loki use the traditional semicolon and parenthesis, or was he an emoji kind of guy?

Oh _no_ , what if he sent a picture? Something equally flirty as a winky face. Maybe a picture of him shirtless with the caption about his tricks or whatever.

Thor really shouldn’t open the message. So, he opened the message.

There is no picture, no winky face, no greeting. Thor let out a breath.

 **Loki**  
                _9:55pm_  
                > Olive branch?  
                   Lunch tomorrow, 11 pm at Valhalla.

Huh. The text was a lot more mature and professional than Thor had anticipated. Perhaps that is why he is quick to accept the invitation, typing out his reply and hesitating on whether to add a smiley face- he doesn’t.

Loki doesn’t text back.

When Thor tucked himself into bed later that night, he didn't acknowledge the fluttering in his stomach. Loki had the ability to completely unravel him it seemed _and_ he hadn’t even been _Loki_ about it. Which, the more he dwelled on that, was a bit troubling.

There was no hidden meaning in the words, no riddle, no illusion. Just a peace offering and a time and place. Thor wouldn’t say he was let down, not out loud at least. However, in the comfort of his own bedroom, on his own mattress, buried beneath his own sheets, he might entertain the thought of being a tiny bit disappointed.

 

* * *

 

 

A foreboding sense of dread washed over him. He checked his watch, it read 11:17. The seat across from the table was still empty and the server had already been by to refill his water and offered a sympathetic smile when she caught him staring at the door.

“Do you still need a minute? I can get you an appetizer while you wait,” she looked at him expectantly and didn’t add the unspoken _while you wait for someone who isn’t going to show_. Thor was going to give her a great tip.

“A water for me please.” It was Loki who slid into the seat and smiled apologetically, “I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”

The server looked between the two, trying to read Thor’s expression. Satisfied that he was okay, she grinned brightly. "Coming right out!”

Thor was still staring at Loki; he had honestly convinced himself this was another of his cruel tricks and he was going to be stood up. That, of course, was the only reason he was relieved to see him.

As always, Loki was dressed like he had stepped off the cover of a men’s suiting catalog. He was perfectly put together and perfectly handsome.

“You came,” Thor said, sounding a bit more shocked than he would have liked.

“Well, you know how traffic is.”

 _Not really_ , Thor thought, traffic hadn’t been bad at all for him.

It was amazing how quick awkwardness settled over them; this had been a bad idea. Thor fumbled with the hem of his linen napkin and Loki was making it a point to look anywhere but at Thor. He should probably say something, _something_ to establish what kind of meeting this was. Strictly business.

“You look well,” he said because that is something you say on a platonic business meeting and _not_ something you say on a date.

It does, however, take Loki by surprise. He opened his mouth but didn't get anything out, interrupted by the server placing his drink down and readying her booklet to take their order.

“Are you ready?”

Thor hadn’t even cracked his menu open and Loki must have sensed his hesitation because he smiled brightly at Darcy, according to the nametag, and ordered the house special salad for them both. She looked to him for approval, which he gave and she disappeared.

Thor wasn’t really a salad person, but he didn’t have the mental capacity to argue. Especially when Loki was staring at him so intently— like he was trying to figure him out like he was intrigued.

The silence stretched out uncomfortably long and Thor racked his brain for _anything_ to say.

It was funny, weeks ago Thor had countless animated and heated debates with Loki in his head. Many featured him telling Loki how incredibly _fucked up_ he was for antagonizing him, using him, _teasing him_. Sometimes they ended with Loki apologizing and pleading for forgiveness. Most of the time, however, they ended with Loki back on his knees, pleading for something else, and Thor spilling into his own hand.

“I saw you on Channel Six last week,” Loki broke the silence with a voice that was smooth and steady, not at all the wreck Thor was. “You did good, I wasn’t expecting that after your first performance.”

“Jitters,” Thor explained, like that really explained anything.

“Pardon me?”

“An article said I just had the jitters. I think they went on to call me charming and what else was it?” Thor dramatically pretended to be thinking. “ _Oh yeah_ , that I had bravado.”

Loki smirked at that. “Isn’t it a little soon to making those kinds of accusations?”

He shrugged, smiling. Thor decided his best bet was to roll with the light, flirty banter. It was harmless, after all. He could still walk away declaring this a business meeting.

“I don’t know, what did they say about you?”

They were briefly interrupted by Darcy setting their plates down. It turned out the house special salad was huge with a medley of greens and blackened salmon fanned neatly on top. 

“I think charming was thrown around also, along with eloquent, persuasive, _handsome_.”

 “Oh, you’re right, they must not have all their facts yet,” Thor said gravely, but continued smiling to let him know it’s a joke.

They talk for hours. Thor barely ate his meal— not because it wasn't good, it was delicious— it was just hard to concentrate with Loki in front of him, talking with wide eyes and genuine smiles. He talked about his time overseas and the boarding school he attended. He talked about the time he put a frog in his bunkmate’s bed because he had made him upset— and that story really shouldn’t be endearing, but it is. He talked briefly about law school but insisted it was boring. Loki never mentioned his father or his brothers, but Thor barely noticed.

In turn, Thor told him about his college-days shenanigans. Loki laughed at a few of the tales, even though it was mostly at Thor’s expense. He told him about his cat, Mjolnir, and Loki asked to see a picture. Thor told himself he picked the one where he is shirtless and she is cuddled into his side because it showed off her face the best. Still, Loki said he would love to meet her. He pointedly doesn’t talk about his dad, but he does gush over his mom. For some reason, Thor then tells Loki that he would love her because she’s clever like him. It's true, but he knew he shouldn't have said it.

It was a seed that shouldn't be planted; but here Thor was— watering it.

Loki smiled around his fork. Instantly, Thor was hit with a crushing vision of them sitting at the diner as they were, but under different circumstances. A reality where they weren't sons of political opponents, but two guys who flirted over salads and took each other home. That wasn’t the case though, at all, and it produced a sharp pain in his chest. 

How easily he had forgotten the game that was being played.

“Thor?” Loki’s light smile had disappeared and if he was anyone other than Loki, Thor would have said he looked concerned.

A deep sigh escaped his lips. He was treading dangerous, dangerous waters and he needed to find the safety of the shore before Loki drug him beneath the waves.

“Look, Loptr,” Thor gritted out, the formality thick and stifling, an abrupt change in the atmosphere. Loki’s real name sounded strange to his own ears and judging by the way Loki winced, it did him too. “We can’t do this.”

“What? Have lunch?”

“No,” another exasperated sigh, “you know what I’m talking about. The flirting, the unauthorized meeting, and implying there will be more…”

Loki snorted a laugh, but there was no humor behind it. “I’m impressed you made a lunch date sound so clinical.”

“Don’t get me wrong, this has been nice,” Thor explained, and it’s the truth. The problem was in the fact that it was _too_ nice. “But, there can’t be a next time. It needs to stop.”

“It doesn’t have to, you know.”

A slender foot knocked against his leg, causing his knee to jerk upwards and shake the entire table, glasses rattling. Loki leaned forward, snaking his foot up higher on his calf.

“It’d be so easy,” his voice was almost a purr and Thor instinctively leaned closer to hear better. Bad idea. Loki reached out and snatched his wrist, the action harsh, but soon melting into a soothing touch. “So easy,” he continued, rubbing small circles into Thor’s pulse, “to just take me back to your place and fuck me.  Get it out of our system.” His wall was back up, his humanity gone, his eyes dark with intent.

Thor sucked in a sharp breath and jerked his arm back, cradling it to his chest. His skin burned like frostbite where Loki had touched him.

“No, Loki,” Thor said with finality. _No_ , because he knew that if he let himself give in there wouldn’t be just one time. There wouldn’t be any getting it out of his system. Fuck, Loki _was already_ in his system.

“Fine,” he stated flatly, pushing back his chair and gathering his things. Thor blinked, he hadn’t really thought it would be that easy. “I got what I came for anyway.”

“Closure,” Thor agreed, nodding sagely.

Loki froze and gave him a peculiar look before shaking his head and snatching the check. He smiled, but it was a broken chasm on his face. “Precisely,” he hissed through his teeth.

 

* * *

 

 

It turned out, Thor had only been able to keep his promise to Brunnhilde for four weeks. Because it was in that fourth week that he went to lunch with Loki and inadvertently broke it.

_Don’t do anything stupid._

She should have known.

 _He_ should have known.

To be fair, though, it hadn’t been a pinky promise.

Still, Thor winced when she slammed the newspaper down in front of him. Stark was pacing back and forth, about to have a come apart and Romanov was propped against the wall looking pensive as usual. Thor thank every god he could remember that Odin wasn’t there.

“What the _fuck_ is this?”

He didn’t have to look to know what it was. He had passed the newspaper on his way to the office and literally choked on his coffee. He looked anyway, the grainy black-and-white photo of him and Loki at Valhalla was no less shocking the second time around.

It wasn’t just them eating lunch either, no, that would have been too innocent. Instead, Loki’s foot was grazing the inside of Thor’s leg and they were both leaning into the table, staring at each other while Loki held his wrist. The headline said it all: **Forbidden Affair Between Rival Families?**

“Are you going to tell us why you and Laufeyson are out there playing Romeo and Juliet?” Stark blurted, his pace increasing rather than stopping.

Brunnhilde and Natasha were both staring at him; Brunnhilde’s glare a little more threatening.

Thor fumbled for an excuse. “He asked for an olive branch?”

Tony finally stopped in his tracks, turning on his heel to face him. Thor wondered if he even had soles in his shoes left.

“Olive branch?!” His tone couldn’t be more incredulous if he tried. “He asked for an _olive branch,_ but you _what_? Marched over, planted an entire tree? Cozy home and the white picket fence and all?”

He stayed silent, what else could he do? He deserved this. Brunnhilde had warned him, but, for whatever reason, he had trusted Loki. _Again._ Loki had pulled one over on him, _again._

“So, what are we going to do?” This time it was Natasha that spoke, it seemed to calm Tony down slightly. “This is a real mess, Odinson.”

Brunnhilde rubbed at her temples, “I vote drink. We are all going to be killed anyway.”

“Drinking is what got me into this mess,” Thor grumbled. Tony’s head snapped to him, Brunnhilde’s eyes widened, and something clicked in Natasha’s expression.

“Thor, what in the hell is that supposed to mean? Were you drunk at _brunch_?” Stark crossed his arms and took a step towards him, “ _Please_ , tell me you were drunk at brunch.”

Damnit.

“First of all, it was _lunch._ Second, no, I was drunk when I agreed to meet him.” Thor was only a little proud of how easily the lie rolled off his tongue. Maybe he had spent too long with Laufeyson.

Brunnhilde’s tension deflated, thankful that Thor hadn’t let his dirty little secret slip. Especially since it was kind of indirectly her fault too. “I think,” she started, “we should ride this out. If Thor lays low for a while it will blow over. Odin has another conference coming up, we will just focus on that. We aren’t going to add any more fuel to this fire.” She makes sure Thor sees her glaring at him for that last sentence.

“No more fuel,” Thor repeated, reassuring her.

“No more fuel.”


	3. corner on your own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, originally I had planned for this to be short and sweet (or angsty) but these two aren't gonna let that happen. I also want to point out to anyone reading: Thor is an extremely unreliable narrator! I think this chapter makes that a bit obvious. 
> 
> All mistakes are my own. I am really terrible at editing myself.

In his youth, Thor was known to be a tad hot-headed and just a tiny bit impulsive. However, in his early thirties, he prided himself on maturing and thinking rationally. Which is why he can’t figure out why he’s parked in front of Loki’s temporary office location on the upper side of town.

This wasn’t something mature, rational, level-headed, Thor would do.

Knuckles whitened as he gripped the steering wheel tight and he glanced at the quaint brick building in front of him. It wasn’t flashy at all and being nestled in between a luxury hair salon and up-scale boutique made it seem even plainer. It didn’t scream Loki Laufeyson.

He could turn around, drive away and no one would even know he came here. His subduing anger, unfortunately, kept him rooted in the spot; one hand fidgeting with the keys, contemplating turning off the engine.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the newspaper lying in the passenger seat and almost instantly, the flame was rekindled.

Brunnhilde had said no more fuel to the flame, but every fiber of Thor’s being was screaming: fan it.

It took him all of 10 seconds to leave his car and enter the building, bursting through the door before his nerve wore off. The adrenaline pumping through his veins must have been obvious because the wide-eyed receptionist looked absolutely terrified. He tried to soften his expression to let her know: _No, I’m not here to rob the place._

“I’m here to see Lo- _Mr. Laufeyson_ ,” he corrected himself.

“Oh, uhm,” she started, and Thor could tell she was trying hard to recollect herself, “do you have an appointment?”

“No, please let him know Thor Odinson is here.” He shifted uncomfortably with her obvious recognition to his name. “I’m _sure_ he will be able to make time,” he added, words dripping with sarcasm and failing to sound sweet.

“Of course, Mr. Odinson!” She nearly knocked her pen holder over as she scrambled to get up. She gave him a large smile that almost looked nervous and disappeared around the corner.

Left alone, Thor realized he made a mistake. He should have driven away when he had the chance. Maybe _now_ wasn’t too late? No, it was, it definitely was.

_Shit._

He tried to conjure up the image from the newspaper to regain some of his momentum from early. Loki, leaning over, a smile on his face and hand on his wrist; deceiving him, playing with his emotions. He needed to be here, to make him stop indefinitely.

“Mr. Odinson, Mr. Laufeyson will see you now,” she looked even more frazzled than before, her dark eyes darting frantically from Thor to the hallway. Thor shook himself from his thoughts and offered the woman a small smile, which she did not return completely.

“Right this way, sir,” she motioned down the florescent lit hall and Thor’s feet moved on their own accord.

This was a bad idea.

She stopped two doors down and Thor could see Loki hunched over his desk through the window. 

This was a very bad idea.

The receptionist shifted on her feet and tucked a curl behind her ear, recomposing herself. She gave two firm raps on the door and then turned to Thor was a false bravado. “Good luck,” she gave the ominous warning and then she was gone, the click of her heels getting quicker the farther away she got.

This was a very, very bad idea.

Oh well, hindsight was always twenty-twenty.

Thor unceremoniously opened the door and Loki, the asshole, didn’t even look up. So, he clicked the door shut a little harder than necessary and Loki kept scribbling away.

Fine then.

Thor coughed, clearing his throat. Loki groaned, slamming his pen down and finally,  _finally_ , lifting his head. “Thor, can you take a seat?” He gestured vaguely to an awful maroon armchair in the corner. “I will get to you in a moment.”

 _Get to you,_ like Thor was just another document on Loki’s desk. Yeah, that got under his skin a little too much.

Thor took two purposeful steps towards the desk because he wasn’t, under no circumstances, going to do what Loki said.

Loki’s pen stopped moving, but he didn’t look back up. “ _Thor_ ,” he gritted out, “I asked you to wait over there.”

“No,” Thor crossed his arms defiantly over his chest. There was a twisted satisfaction from visibly ruffling Loki’s feathers. It gave him the sense of being in control, even if deep down he knew he wasn’t.

Loki slammed his pen down this time, raising quickly enough up that his chair scuffed loudly against the hardwood. “ _No_?” His voice sounded like poison.

“No,” Thor repeated.

Sharp, green eyes bore into him, trying to uproot and unravel. Thor, proudly, stood his ground and didn’t waver, ignoring the way his knees wanted to buckle beneath the gaze.

They stood like that, staring at each other, daring each other to make the first move, until Loki sighed and visibly deflated.

Huh, that was easier than he expected. Thor had mentally prepared for more of a fight. Small victories.

“What do you want, Thor? I truly am busy.” Loki rounded the desk, leaning back against it and mirroring Thor’s stance.

“I’m busy too- “

“Looks like it.” He looked Thor up and down and his mouth twitched into a quick smirk. He is suddenly aware that Loki, as always, is dressed to the nine in a fashionable, slim suit while he stood in his jeans and a worn gray t-shirt.  

“ _I’m busy too_ ,” Thor tried again, not really appreciating being cut off, “thanks to your little game.”

Loki’s face remained unamused, but he did quirk an eyebrow at his statement.

“The newspaper,” Thor clarified. “Our picture on the front page.”

A solemn nod from Loki. “Oh yes, it’s a shame really,” he said drily, looking off to the side. Thor followed his gaze to the dreaded article on the corner of his desk. “The didn’t even get my good angle.”

A fiery, berserker rage bubbled within Thor at Loki’s ability to joke about an incident that was slowly unbricking Thor’s life. A rage at the game Loki was playing at Thor’s expense. A rage that blinded him, and told him to crowd Loki’s space, fisting the front of his perfectly pressed button-up.

For a moment, Loki looked scared and it was fucked up how _powerful_ that made Thor feel. “I don’t think you have a good angle.”

The look of fear vanished in an instant and was replaced with the calculating, crafty expression Thor was used to; like switching masks. That look sent a tremble of worry though his body. Loki must have felt it because he laughed, but it sounded broken.

“You don’t think so?” He pressed closer, smiling with his tongue pressed between his teeth. Thor was only vaguely aware of a thigh wedging itself between his legs. “Hmm,” Loki hums and it’s practically in his ear. He draped his arms over Thor’s neck and pushes his thigh forward, smiling when it’s met with Thor’s growing erection. “Doesn’t really feel like it.”

He should really pull away, walk away, get in his car and drive. Loki’s thigh is still pressing insistently on Thor’s cock and his fingers are now tugging at the short strands on the top of his head. So, instead of leaving, he grinds forward, searching for more friction.

Loki’s breath hitches and his hands tighten in Thor’s hair. If he wasn’t so turned on, it would border painful. Any plan to leave is tossed out the window when he shifts so that their hips are slotted together, and Thor can feel the straining hardness in Loki’s slacks against his own.  

Thor’s mind altogether dissipates into dust when Loki grinds down. He released his vice grip on Loki’s collar and his hands scramble for purchase on his hip, guiding him into another harsh grind together.

“Thor,” Loki is all but panting, “ _Thor_. The-” A quick nip to his neck earned Thor a needy whine that went straight to his cock. “Thor,” Loki tried again, this time pushing them apart.

Oh. Maybe this wasn't what Loki wanted. It certainly wasn't what Thor came to do, after all. _Shit._ This was the definition of adding fuel to the fire.

“Thor.” Loki’s chest was heaving, and his dark hair was no longer poised but falling into his face. “For the love of God, stop thinking and get the blinds.”

This kickstarted his common sense again, but not enough to stop what he’s doing.

It took far too long to reach the window looking out into the hallway. Thor struggled with getting the blinds to close, cursing under his breath. Absently, he hoped no one had walked by during their little tussle.

“Hurry, _please_.”

Hearing Loki, debauched and panting, saying _please_ is almost enough to make him come right there. As if that wasn't enough, Loki had already taken the liberty of unbuckling his pants, slipping his hand beneath the waistband of his briefs.

Thor had never moved so fast. In an instant, he was back on Loki, pulling his hand from his pants with a tight grip on his wrist. Loki’s eyes were wide and lust-blown as he made a small sound of protest. Last time, Loki had gotten himself off and Thor never got a chance to properly see Loki’s cock, much less touch it. He brought his hand up to his lips, giving a gentle kiss to the pads of Loki’s fingers. “No,” Thor whispered into the softness of his skin, “it’s my turn to make you feel good.”

Loki stalled, face heavy with an emotion that Thor couldn’t name. The sentiment made him uneasy, Thor realized. Testing his boundaries, Thor released his wrist and cupped the side of Loki’s face, thumb caressing his sharp cheekbone.

Loki practically snarled, shaking away the touch and reached behind himself to push away the papers and documents off the desk and hoisted himself onto the ledge. He matched Thor’s tender touches with roughness, pulling Thor back into him and wrapping his legs around his waist, digging a heel into the small of Thor’s back.

“C’mon,” he hissed into Thor’s ear, giving a quick lick to his earlobe that made Thor’s knees weak. “Do it then.”

Okay, so this was how Loki wanted it. He could get on board with that. He needed to let out some much-needed aggression anyway.

But first, “Do you want this?” Thor’s voice was practically a growl, he rolled his hips up to rub his straining cock against Loki’s lap. He could feel how much Loki _wanted_  — but needed to hear him say it. But, Loki said nothing, just bit his lip to stifle a moan and threw his head back, pushing his heels into Thor’s back to feel the sensation again.

“ _Loki_.” He gave in to his request and rolled his hips again, and again, and again. “Do you?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he practically spat. Loki’s hands were now tearing their way under Thor’s shirt. His long, nimble fingers grasping at the flesh found underneath. “Is that what you want to hear, Thor? That I want you?”

“Say it,” he breathed into the crook of Loki’s neck. Thor took advantage of the expanse of Loki’s neck and nipped lightly, careful not to leave a mark, though he really wanted to. God, he wanted to. He bit down harder the second time and Loki squirmed beneath him, snaking his hand to the buckle of Thor’s pants.

“I want you,” Loki panted. He fumbled with the zipper and settled for palming through the denim. It wasn’t enough but neither of them could take the time to break away from their frantic touches to fix it. Thor bucked against Loki’s hand and Loki whispered again, breathy in Thor’s ear, “I want this cock in my hand, _please_.”

 _That_ was enough for Thor to stop and pull away. He decided not to dwell on his newly found kink of _Loki being polite._ The second he was still enough for Loki to get a good grasp on his buckle, they were being torn open and pushed down.

His cock bobbed out, straining, red, and already beading. He was already so on edge that he worried this was going to be over embarrassingly quick. To be fair, it had been a long time coming. Loki’s eyes were focused on it, tongue darting out to lick over his lips and Thor briefly wondered if that was meant to be a tease or if it was an unconscious gesture.

Moving like he couldn’t stand the anticipation any longer, Loki tugged at his own pants, eager to get free. “Are you going to help me or not?” His tone held no malice, only desperation. “Did you come here to make me do all the work myself?”

A little voice in the back of Thor’s mind reminded him that this was not why he was here. He was here to confront Loki about setting him up and somewhere along the way got sidetracked. He looked down to where Loki was now exposed and he audibly swallowed. Yeah, that could all wait.

Thor recovered from his temporary malfunction, shifting his own hips forward to bump against Loki’s cock. The feeling of skin on skin was simultaneously too much and not enough.

Still, that nagging voice in the back of his mind was persistent. So, to clear his conscience: “There aren’t any cameras in here, right? Your photographer isn’t lurking around?” He wrapped a hand around them both and Loki hissed under his breath.

“What?”

Another tug, this time Thor wiped his thumb across the welling top of Loki’s cock and Loki jerked back. Only, Loki’s answering growl wasn’t that of pleasure, and he pushed a very confused Thor back.

“My what?”

Thor, awkwardly, cleared his throat. “Your photographer? I’m sure the tabloids would freak out over this compromising position.”

Loki was staring a hole through him and Thor wanted to dissipate through the floor. He suddenly felt very exposed.

“I heard you. But _why_ , please tell me, are you assuming the photographer was _mine_?” Loki was already tugging his flagging erection into his pants. His shoulders were squared; he was ready for a fight.

“Are you trying to say it wasn’t?” He felt himself getting defensive, and he mimicked Loki, pulling up his pants and attempting to make himself look not so vulnerable.

“I’m not trying to say anything, I didn’t hire that photographer.” Loki moved on to buttoning up his shirt, but he still looked much more unpolished than before. “You’re unbelievable, Odinson.”

“I’m unbelievable?” Thor snorted and adjusted the stretched-out collar of his shirt. “You’re unbelievable. _Which_ is why I don’t believe you.”

“In what plane of existence would exposing this affair benefit me?”

Thor didn’t really have a good comeback for that. Instead, he stood, mouth opening and closing wordlessly like a dumb fish. In the haste to say _something_ he spat: “This isn’t an affair.”

“Oh? You just had both our cocks in your hand not even a minute ago. What would you call that?”

“A mistake.” Thor regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. If he had the ability to grab them and shove them back, he would have.

Loki looked absolutely wounded before he looked angry.

“Why are you here, Thor?”

Good question, he was trying to figure that out himself.

“I want you to stop this stupid game you’re playing.” That was the original idea, was it not? To end this terrible game that Loki was playing, that Thor had fallen into, that Thor had been playing too.

Loki’s eyebrows nearly lifted off his head and he laughed, but it was hollow and devoid of any amusement. Thor mentally prepared himself for a verbal lashing.

Instead, in a low rumble, “Get out.”

Somehow, that hurt worse.

“Loki- “

“Get out, before I have you escorted out.” Loki placed his hand on the phone, threatening to do just that.

“Fine,” Thor gave up. He ran a hand through his short hair, attempting to hide the fact that Loki’s fingers had earlier been tangled in it. He decided to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and the way Loki had looked at him.

Loki was making it a point to not look at him. He had already started picking up the papers that had been passionately flung to the floor. Thor hovered at the door, wanting to say something but not knowing what.

Realizing that there was no reconciliation left, Thor turned to leave for good.

“Thor.”

A hopeful flutter blossomed in his chest and he turned, half hoping to see Loki smiling and forgiving.

Instead, he looked murderous.

“When I play games, I play to win.”

It was a warning. The butterflies in the stomach exploded into flames. Thor did what he should have done, to begin with, he ran.

He ran far away from Loki Laufeyson.


	4. it seems i was close

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Communication is key, my friends.  
> I would also like to point out once again that I know nothing about politics, so that is always probably gonna' be background noise.

“You look nervous.”

Natasha was staring at him and the gaze was enough to raise the hairs on the back of his arms. It was intense- like she was looking through him and seeing _everything._ He was pretty sure she can’t do that, but then again, Thor didn't know a whole lot about her. Romanov liked to keep an air of mystery, which was fine by him, but it made moments like these a little unnerving.

“I’m not,” he lied. “Why would I be?”

 _Why shouldn’t I be?_ He mentally corrected himself.

Natasha shrugged, calm and collected. “You’re fidgeting,” she noted.

Thor looked down at the table where he had successfully shredded the corner of his notepad. With one swift flick of his wrist, all the little pieces were banished to the floor. With the evidence gone, he gave her a wide grin and she replied with an expression that was all too knowing.

“Seriously?” Tony’s voice boomed from behind him as he rounded the table to toe at bits of paper in the floor. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just litter our conference room with homemade confetti.”

“Confetti? Are we celebrating?” Brunnhilde pushed through the door with a drink carrier and promptly started distributing its holdings. “If I had known I would have brought something a little something stronger than coffee.”

Thor took his drink, nodding in appreciation. He didn't voice his shared wish that it _was_ something stronger than coffee. Today Loki was appearing on the local station’s morning show again and this time Thor couldn’t weasel his way out of observing. So, yeah, he definitely needed something strong. 

It sucked, mostly because he hadn’t seen Loki since their near-sex-experience almost a week ago. That entire event had left him angry, upset, confused, and uncontrollably turned on. All in all, not a great combination. Still, the way Loki had looked so betrayed when he pushed him away was seared into his mind. It promptly put a stop to any wildly inappropriate solutions he had for dealing with how the memories of the moments _before_ made him feel. It was a lot easier to jerk off to images of Loki, snarky and charming, than images of Loki, disappointed and dismissive.

Brunnhilde snapped her fingers in front of his eyes and he jolted out of his thoughts. Thoughts of Loki, which were dangerous. “Drink that coffee, you’re acting like a zombie.”

“Sorry,” he grumbled around the lip of the cup, “I’m just tired.”

“He’s also nervous,” Natasha chimed in. Had she been staring this _entire_ time? God, he really hoped she wasn’t a mind reader.

_Natasha if you can read my mind, blink twice._

She didn’t, but she did shift her attention to Brunnhilde who was taking her turn in the _stare-Thor-Odinson-down_ contest. They were both tied for first place.

“Why would he be nervous?” Her tone was clipped and translated very easily to: _I know why, but you better keep it to yourself._

Thor ignored the question by taking another long, exaggerated gulp of his coffee. It burned the roof of his mouth, but he ignored that too.

Thankfully, the universe was smiling down on him and he was offered an escape from the uncomfortable conversation via his father finally entering the room. Unfortunately, Brunnhilde’s glare reminded him that she wasn’t going to let this go so easily. Still, he had won for the time being.

“Father,” he greeted and wasn’t at all ashamed with how smug he sounded.  

“You’re late,” Brunnhilde teased, plucking the last remaining coffee from the tray and passing it to him once he settled in his seat.

“Actually,” Tony frowned and looked at his wrist, “we still have a couple minutes. So, let’s recap. Last week Laufey held a rally that really focused on economic issues, so we should expect mostly elaboration on these topics.”

“Right,” Brunnhilde agreed, leisurely strolling to the flat screen mounted on the wall to turn in on. “The more details we know, the better. It will give us a good foundation for counter-arguments for the first debate.”

The station was already set to channel six and the host, Amora, was finishing up a segment on what Thor assumed was e-mail scammers. Her blonde hair was teased just a little too high and her shirt was a shade dangerously close to the green-screen green. Thor had never been a fan, finding her a bit annoying and unpolished. So, really, the fact she was doing this interview just added insult to injury.

“Now,” she said with a smile so large it was almost terrifying, “we have a special guest that I have just been _dying_ to get my hands on in the light of recent events.”

The atmosphere was sucked out of the room and an uncomfortable haze settled. As bad as he didn’t want to see Loki, he kept his eyes glued to the screen. It is better than the alternative, which was chancing a scrutinizing glare from anyone around the table, especially his father. 

The camera panned out and now within the frame was Loki, sitting ramrod straight with a tight smile. It’s unusual, different from his usual air of confidence, and immediately Thor’s curiosity is peaked.

“Thank you so much for having me back.” Loki’s reply was stiff but polite. “I look forward to your questions regarding my father’s first campaign rally.”

 _Huh_ , Loki must have been able to tell what was coming too.

“Of course,” Amora beamed and for a brief second the knot in Thor’s stomach loosened. “First though, I’d love to talk about this!”

Annoyingly giddy, she pulled the newspaper- where they were front and center- from beneath her desk. Thor could see Loki visibly flinch and he became aware that he was once again pulling at the paper of his notebook. He abruptly pulled his hands to his lap and chanced a glance at Natasha, but she was staring at the screen with a scowl.

“Oh,” Loki breathed. “It’s still a sore spot for me. You see,” he trailed off, staring hard at the ground in thought, “I am still rather heartbroken.”

Thor didn’t have to look to know all the eyes in the room were on him at that moment. He also didn’t need to look to know they were all itching to strangle him.

Amora was pouting, placing the paper on the desk softly. “Heartbroken? Over so soon?”

“Yes, I’m afraid its true.”

“What is happening?” Tony whispered from across the table, his eyes darting from Natasha to Brunnhilde to Thor and finally, to Odin. Odin remained stoic, eyes trained on the television, his face not betraying an ounce of anger that Thor _knew_ was bubbling inside him.

“It may be unprofessional, but can I ask?” Amora was right, it was unprofessional, but that wasn’t stopping her from reaching across her desk and giving a soft pat to the back of Loki’s hand. “What happened?”

“I really shouldn’t talk about it.” Good, Loki, good. “But- I will say that Thor and I met the other day to discuss the future of our relationship.”

Bad, Loki, bad.

“He ended it?”

“He had a very good reason,” Loki said, laying on the earnestness and innocence thick, too thick. “Thor didn’t think a relationship would be very professional, given the circumstances. I understand his position, but it didn’t really occur to me.”

“Blinded by love?” Amora sighed dreamily, like a school girl at a slumber party.

“Possibly,” he laughed. Loki looked down at his hands now folded in his lap. He smiled, small and sweet like he was remembering something precious to him. Amora was putty in his hands. “It didn’t occur to me because I am able to separate my personal affairs from my work. It’s something my father instilled in me from a young age. He _always_ embraced the importance of setting aside personal convictions if he felt it made him biased in making important decisions.”

Amora strummed a manicure had along the counter. “I suppose Thor wasn’t taught to separate business from pleasure then.”

Loki, the absolute asshole, looked directly into the camera with a sly, devious smile. “Ruling with heart over head can be dangerous,” he turned back to Amora, “But, I suppose it’s not Thor that’s running.”

“No, but you know what they say,” she sighed, fingers steepled under her chin. “The apple doesn’t always fall far from the tree.”

“They do say that,” he replied with another forced laugh.

Thor was going to die, he just didn’t know whether it would be by the hands of someone in the room or from the blinding, mind-blowing embarrassment.

 

* * *

 

 

Surprisingly, no one said anything until the interview was over. Honestly, they could have, and Thor wouldn’t have known any different. He had slammed his head on the desk and tuned out sometime after Loki made a fool out of him on local television. He only came to when he heard the TV click off.

Slowly, he raised his head. Naturally, every eyeball in the room was boring a hole into his skull.

“So, the elephant in the room,” Tony cleared his throat and began his trademark pace. “To be clear, the elephant is a metaphor for Thor and Loki.”

Thor groaned and debated putting his head down and powering off again.

“Is there something you want to share with the class?” If Tony was anything, it was persistent.

“He’s lying.”

“Obviously,” Natasha cut in. “But, so are you.”

“Thor,” Brunnhilde pressed, but there was an uncharacteristic softness padding her words. “Did something else happen?”

“I, well, it’s like this,” he stopped himself and sighed dramatically. There was really no point in lying anymore, it was just digging his grave deeper and deeper. The truth would be better, not the _entire_ truth, of course. But the truth, more or less. “I went by his office last week to…talk.”

A collective groan.

“But, that was _not_ the conversation.”

Truthfully, there hadn’t been much conversation at all. Just Thor intending to put his foot down, but his pants coming down instead.

“I thought I said no more fuel to the fire?” Brunnhilde crossed her arms and cocked her hip like she was his mother and he was about to get seriously grounded.

Speaking of his mother, he could really use her support right about now.

“I was trying to douse it with water!”

“Some good that did you.”

“Actually, sand is a better- “

“Enough!” Odin roared, pushing himself from his seat and slamming his hands hard on the table with a loud crack. Everyone in the room flinched, even Natasha.

“Father,” Thor started but snapped his mouth shut once Odin threw him a look sharp enough to cut.

Odin sighed, his shoulders sagging as he sunk back into his chair. “Thor, do you understand the gravity of your actions? I had better hope for bringing you onto this team, I thought you were ready.” He sounded resigned, tired. Thor much preferred anger to disappointment.

“I am ready,” he insisted, but he didn't even believe it himself.

He father shook his head, looking forward, straight to the door. Thor braced himself for what he knew was coming.

“No, my son, you are not.” His voice was soft, but there was an obvious dismissal. “You’ve jeopardized this campaign and I’m afraid the risk isn’t worth the reward anymore.” He turned, giving him a sad smile but it did nothing to calm the emotion welling inside Thor.

“Father, wait.”

He didn’t wait. “Thor, starting today, you are severing your ties with this campaign. I’m sorry.”

“Sir, wait.” It was Natasha that spoke this time and Odin, to Thor surprise, waited for her. Brunnhilde and Tony exchanged a worried look. Thor was impressed they had stayed silent this long.

“I may have an idea,” she continued, staring down at her phone with pinched brows. “I’ll need to make a few calls beforehand, but I’ll clear it with you before I set anything up.”

Odin sat, studying her with a quiet intensity. Natasha, however, didn’t waver.

“But we will need Thor.” She looked across the table to him and gave a small, almost invisible nod.

His father seems to mull it over. It would, of course, be easier to pull Thor from the picture. It was so early in the campaign that eventually this would all blow over and become buried with _actual_ political issues. As much as Thor wanted to prove to his father he was worthy, a part of him almost yearns for an early release from this hellscape he created.

“Fine, Romanov, one last attempt to clean this up.”

The universe, apparently, wasn’t actually smiling on him. Instead, she was more likely laughing manically at his expense. Fair enough.

“Can I at least know what this plan is?”

“No,” she replied, eyes once again trained on her phone.

“Hey, the plan involves Thor, he should know!” Tony finally spoke up. That was probably the longest he’d ever gone silent in a room full of people. “It’s important that you know I say this strictly for his well-being and not at all because I’m curious myself.”

“Thanks, Tony,” Thor said with as much sarcasm as he could muster.

From behind him, Brunnhilde placed a firm hand on his shoulder and he leaned into the touch. It was comforting, even though he knew she would probably much prefer to have that hand around his neck.

“I can’t,” Natasha sighed.

“Why not?” Thor heard himself say, immediately tensing.

“Because,” she gave him a sympathetic smile, “you aren’t going to like it.”

 

* * *

 

 

Three loud knocks on his door jolted Thor from his impromptu nap. He wiped the string of drool from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

_Bang. Bang. Bang._

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” He called from the couch, standing and swaying. He kicked the empty beer bottle at his feet and it rolled across the hardwood floor and Mjolnir leapt from her perch on the counter to chase it.

Thor’s scowl immediately flipped upside-down when he opened the door.

“Banner!”

Sure enough, Bruce stood on the opposite side of the doorframe, arms heavy with a bag of Chinese food. Thor stepped to the side to allow him to enter, going straight to the kitchen counter to unload.

“I heard you were having sort of a shit week, so I thought…” Bruce’s eyes darted from the food to Thor and gave a little shrug.

“You heard right, so this is much appreciated.” He smiled, and it was probably the first time it was genuine in weeks- since, maybe, Loki. You know, _before_ the volcanic explosion of drama.

“I can tell,” Bruce said, staring with a raised eyebrow at Mjolnir batting at the empty beer bottle. “So, want to talk about it? I’m not _that_ kind of doctor, but hey.”

Thor busied himself with pulling down plates from the cabinet, handing one to Bruce and starting on making his plate.

“I do need an unbiased ear.”

He waits until they are settled in the living room with their dinner before he unleashes.

“I don’t even know where to start,” he stared down at his plate like it had personally offended him. He could tell Bruce everything and it wouldn’t matter. He was a friend but had no cards in the political race. Brunnhilde, the only other person that knew intimate details of the situation, was too involved. Even then, she didn’t know everything.

Bruce didn’t say anything, just waited patiently and poked at his plate.

“I guess, it started the night before the campaign officially launched. Brunnhilde and I went out to the bar and I hooked-up with someone. It kind of all went downhill from there.”

Bruce’s face twisted in confusion. “That’s not so bad.”

“It turns out it was Laufey’s son.”

Bruce’s mouth gaped open, “I retract my statement then.”

“Anyway, we had hooked-up. I was fully prepared to leave it at that and move on,” Thor lied only a little bit. The truth was Loki hadn’t left his mind since that night, but it wasn’t willing to give up that much information. “Then, Loki asks me for an _olive branch_. So, we have lunch and it goes great. But, a photographer catches us, and it makes the papers. _Forbidden romance_ , or something equally cheesy. I go to confront him about setting up the shot and somehow end up with his dick in my hand. You might think that is a good thing, but it just pissed him off. Now, fuck, I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t do it.”

Thor took a giant breath, feeling immediately lighter.

He looked to Bruce who was looking astonished with a noodle hanging ungracefully out of his mouth. He slurped it up and ran a hand through his hair, pulling at the graying strands.

“Jesus Christ, Thor.”

Thor shoved a forkful of sesame chicken in his mouth and grunted an agreement.

Bruce stayed silent for a moment, eyeing Thor from the loveseat.

“So, do you like him?”

Thor choked on rice and grappled for his lukewarm beer on the coffee table to wash it down.

“No, I don’t.”

“Don’t or can’t.”

“Don’t,” Thor reaffirmed but then sighed, “can’t.”

“Well, why not?” Bruce said with a mouthful of Lo Mein.

Thor lets his fork clattered to his plate. “Were you listening to _any_ of that?”

“Yeah, maybe I don’t get it, but what’s the big deal? If you like him and he likes you- “

“He _doesn’t_ like me,” Thor cut him off, feeling his cheeks grow hot. Loki Laufeyson didn’t like him, he only liked himself. “He spent yesterday morning telling the entire tri-state area that I was an emotional immature jackass.” Okay, so maybe those weren’t his exact words, but it was paraphrased close enough.

“To be fair, you are kind of a jackass,” Bruce smiled at him fondly and Thor couldn’t find it within himself to be mad about it. “Still, sounds like he may have liked you at least a little. You had his dick in your hand, remember? Plus, if he was upset that you accused him setting you up. I don’t know, that’s something.”

Strangely enough, Thor hadn’t even considered that possibility. The assumption that Loki was playing him was always forefront in his mind, not allowing room for any other possibility. It was a moment of clarity and a strange feeling twisted itself in his stomach.

“So, just tell him,” Bruce suggested like it was the easiest thing in the world. Maybe it would have been, weeks ago, but now the mess was too big and too public. His father would _never_ allow it.

“It would be crazy,” he mumbled and sat his food on the coffee table, barely touched. Mjolnir leapt onto his lap to replace the plate, purring and nudging her wet nose into Thor’s hand. He obliged and gave her a light scratch behind her ear, earning him a raspy _meow_. “See, Mjolnir thinks so too.”

“The only thing crazy is you talking to your cat.”

Thor picked up Mjolnir and held her in front of his face and she reached out to paw at his nose. “Don’t listen to him, you know I value your opinion over anyone else’s.”

“Thor?” Thor hummed. “Just think about it.”

Thor wouldn’t think about it, not until later. He had spent weeks pretending that Loki hadn’t made an impact on him. He hadn’t even considered entertaining the idea maybe he had made an impact too.

 

* * *

 

 

The call had come much too early. Thor had only barely managed to struggle into his suit and had forgone a tie altogether. Apparently, Natasha’s plan had been approved by Odin and according to Brunnhilde’s text he needed to get to the conference room _now._

Ah yes, Natasha’s ominous and cryptic plan. He had almost forgotten.

He was expecting the normal crowd when he walked through the door fifteen minutes late with a coffee in his hand. What he was  _not_ expecting was Loki sitting, where _he_ normally did, with his arms crossed and blank, concrete expression on his face. There were hands resting on his shoulders and Thor’s gaze followed them up to an equally resigned, but feminine, face.

“Thor, this is Farbauti, Loki’s mother.” Odin introduced her, and she turned her head, giving him a half-smile that disappeared as quickly as it came.

“I trust you need no introductions with my son,” she hissed, voice dripping with resentment.

“No,” Thor agreed and, because it was the polite thing to do, offered his hand to her, “It is nice to meet you.”

She stared at his hand, contemplating, before finally releasing her grip on Loki’s shoulder and sliding into his. After a few quick shakes, she pulled back and made a show of wiping her palm on her skirt. Loki’s face remained blank, but Thor could see the slightest twitch of his eye.

“Likewise,” she gritted out and it didn’t take a detective to know the sentiment was a courtesy.

“Farbauti and I have been discussing how to handle this little…situation.” Odin clasped his hands behind his back, rounding the table to stand by his son. “Natasha has come up with a plan that may work.”

“We need a plan that _will_ work, but Laufey and I are willing to give this a try.”

They were speaking in circles, dancing around the real core of the issue. Thor’s forehead was already beading with sweat. He trusted Natasha when she said he wasn’t going to like this.

“For mercy’s sake, can you two just rip the Band-Aid off?” Loki finally spoke, low and harsh. Thor could see Farbauti’s fingers digging into the meat of his shoulder.

“Very well,” sighed Odin and he turned to Natasha, who Thor was only now noticing. “Romanov?”

“It’s no secret that the media has latched onto this story. No offense, but Loki’s little performance the other day didn’t help matters at all.” Loki’s lip quirked into the smallest smile at that and Natasha rolled her eyes. “It’s clear that they are playing on the _forbidden_ aspect of the affair. Unfortunately, we don’t have time to play Shakespeare in the Park; both Odin and Laufey have much bigger issues to tackle. So, I suggest we lay this to rest by giving them what they want.”

If a pin dropped, the entire building would be able to hear it.

“Tomorrow, you will announce your relationship. It will lose its appeal and fizzle out. The people won’t care when it isn’t a scandal.”

“No,” Thor and Loki said in unison. Loki’s face snapped to him and there was a fiery rage behind those green eyes.

“I’m not- “

“No, _I’m_ not- “

“You will,” Farbauti commanded, silencing them both.

“You both will,” Odin finished.

“Mother,” Loki turned his entire body in his chair, eyes pleading and threatening to water. “Mother, please, this won’t work.”

At that moment, Loki looked small and almost childlike. It would pain Thor if the reverence in his refusal to be in even a pretend relationship didn’t already feel like a dagger in his side.

She shushed him and twisted him back into his chair, movements harsh and final.

“Father,” Thor tried, hoping Odin would be more understanding than Loki’s mother. “Didn’t you say the risk wasn’t worth the reward? From where I’m standing, this is a huge risk.”

Odin didn’t reply, instead, Natasha stepped back up to the plate. “Maintaining a relationship will show that you _do_ understand how to separate personal and work affairs. I didn’t think Loki’s comments would hit hard, but social media exploded after…most in favor of Laufeyson.”

From behind him, Farbauti snorted.

“So, what’s in it for you?” He asked, turning towards her, trying hard not to take notice of Loki’s red-rimmed eyes.

“My husband,” she purred, “hasn’t had the best reputation when it comes to groups of _alternative_ lifestyles. This would help repair that image for them. However, if he refrains from explicit comment, we won’t lose the support of anyone else.”

“This is madness,” Thor growled not to Farbauti in particular, but everyone in the room.

“No,” Loki said quiet and distant. “This is mutually ensured destruction.”

 

* * *

 

Thor waits until they’ve all filtered out of the room. Thankfully, Farbauti had followed Odin out first and left Loki to gather their things. Natasha had whispered a quick apology as she left but Thor dismissed it. Once it’s only them left, the room somehow feels more crowded.

“Loki- “

“Don’t,” Loki grunted, holding out a hand to stop him from coming any closer.

Thor’s jaw snapped closed. Loki was teetering on the edge of tears and Thor wasn’t sure they were from sadness or anger. It was probably a mixture of both.

“We should talk about this.”

“No, we shouldn’t. We don’t have a say anymore, I’m afraid.”

“It’s not fair.”

Loki jerked his head around so fast, Thor was afraid he would get whiplash. “Shut up, you sound like a child.”

“It’s not, and you know it.” Thor was careful to keep his voice low and soft, even though he desperately wanted to scream. He took a step into Loki’s space and placed a gentle hand on his shoulders, careful not to mimic Farbauti’s forceful grip. Loki stilled under his touch, eyes searching his face for an answer to a question that hadn't been asked— not out loud at least. “They shouldn’t be able to take this from us.”

He wasn't even sure what that was actually supposed to mean. This would be a perfect time to admit to Loki that it hadn’t been all a game, at least not on his end.

He didn't get the chance because Loki twisted out of his grasp. “Oh, Thor,” and he sounded almost sad. “There is no _us,_ nothing real at least.”

With a forceful shove of his shoulder, Loki pushed past him and headed towards the door.

“I’ll have my assistant reach out to you when it’s needed. Don’t contact me until then.” He didn't even look back as he said it.

He left and Thor was crushed by the weight of his absence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, if you'd like to follow me on tumblr or talk with me about the fic:  
> wwww.shineonloki.tumblr.com


	5. form of protection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a mini-chapter! 
> 
> I originally wrote it to be included in a larger chapter but decided it was best as a stand-alone. The next stretch of this fic will focus on the pretend relationship aspect! Thank you all for the positive feedback so far, you have no idea how much it means to me! Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Thor didn't even get a chance to fully process the reality of what was happening to him. He didn’t have the time. Natasha had already set up an appearance with the same morning show that Loki had so passionately berated him on. It was just further proof establishing that they really _didn’t_ have a say in any of this.

Honestly, they could have at least given him longer than twenty-four hours before being prepped for the camera. He hadn’t even had a chance to talk to Loki. They hadn’t even discussed what they were going to say, and that realization makes him panic.

As if on cue Brunnhilde swept into his vision, carefully dodging the make-up artist as she powdered his nose.

“Okay, Odinson, here is the deal,” she glanced down at her clipboard, shuffling the pages until she found what she was looking for with a satisfied smirk, “after you saw Loki’s interview, you realized he was worth making it work. You apologized to him- “

“Does his notes say that he also apologized to me?”

“You have the same notes,” she replied flatly, rolling her eyes and continuing down the list in a drawling, monotone voice. “You have a strict no-politics policy. He took your breath away when you saw him at some coffee shop weeks before the campaign started. You hid the initial relationship because you weren’t sure how the media was going to react. You admire his wit and you think he is _very_ clever. He finds you chivalrous and your lack of tact endearing.”

Thor’s face twisted up in confusion. “Who wrote this?”

“Tony,” she said, lips quirking into a smile, “obviously.”

“Wouldn’t it have been more organic for me and Loki to come up with something together?”

The smile faltered, and her gaze darted to the opposite side of the backstage studio, landing right where Loki sat in his chair receiving the same treatment as Thor.

“He requested to only speak to you when necessary,” she said quietly.

“This isn’t a necessity?”

“In front of cameras or press,” she clarified.

Thor groaned and pressed his palms into his eyes, dropping his head back. The make-up artist huffed and quickly requested that he _didn’t do that._

Of course, Loki was going to make this more difficult than it already was. They were supposed to be in a relationship, but he was refusing to communicate. Thor snorted a small, humorless laugh. Bad communication, this was already like 70% of his past _real_ relationships. If anything, at least this experience was eye-opening. 

Thor found himself watching Loki, with a fucking _cocktail_ of emotions swirling inside of him. He decided to try to identify them all.

First, annoyance at the way Loki was slumped in his chair while the woman behind him worked frantically to tame his dark curls. He wore only a crisp, white button-up, contoured to lean muscles, tucked into gray, slim slacks. He was annoyed at how Loki looked _bored_ , phone in hand and thumb flicking absently at the screen.

It was _annoying_ , how effortlessly handsome someone could look while manspreading.

Second place was definitely taken by _anger_. Anger because Loki was being a petulant child. This was already a nightmare of a situation; they were both for the gallows and Loki was literally kicking the stool from beneath their feet. Maybe there was a tiny part of him that didn’t blame Loki for not wanting to talk, but at this point- they were _way_ past that. If they wanted to pull this off, and they _needed to pull this off_ , they were going to have to suck it up and communicate.

Anger because, again, he looked ridiculously, effortlessly handsome.

Lastly, though buried deep beneath annoyance and rage, was sadness. He couldn’t really deny its presence anymore. Sadness for the way Loki had looked at him in Valhalla after Thor completely ruined their lunch; for the way Loki looked when he accused him of setting up the paparazzi; for the way Loki looked at his mother when this stupid scheme was presented; for the way Loki looked at _him_ when they were left alone in the conference room.

Finally, a selfish, selfish sadness because Thor knew he was too stubborn to openly admit that he found Loki painfully, ridiculously, effortlessly handsome.

Beside him, Brunnhilde cleared her throat.

“Are you trying to murder him with that stare?”

Loki chose that moment to look up from his phone and met Thor’s eyes, his eyebrows pinched together and a slight tilt to his head. Thor looked away quickly, suddenly very interested in the wall farthest away from Loki.

Luckily, he didn’t have to answer because a hysterical crew member was calling for them and Thor was being ushered out of his seat faster than he could keep up.

He was forced to stop on an _x_ made of tape and then was being told to walk onto the stage _on cue._ Shit, what was the cue again? Did Brunnhilde go over that?

His mini-meltdown was interrupted as Loki was unceremoniously shoved to his side. He staggered a bit, immediately regaining his composure. He didn’t even _look_ in Thor’s direction. This was never going to work, they were supposed to be in their puppy love phase, but Loki looked like he would rather be in a lava bath than standing within three feet of him.

Ever the optimist, Thor nudged him with his elbow and when Loki cut his eyes over, he gave him a smile that his mother would call _dazzling._ Loki blinked, expression unreadable, and turned back to face his front.

“So,” Thor tried, “are you nervous?”

“No.”

“Did Brunnhilde go over the notes with you?”

“Yes.”

Thor groaned and resisted the urge to pull all his hair out. Fuck, he was _trying._ Loki, however, was giving all the effort of a dead fish.

“What do you think of the script?”

“I think Stark wrote it.”

Okay, more than one word. That was progress.

“Oh, he did,” Thor nudged once more, trying out his smile again, and this time Loki didn’t act like it electrocuted him.

Maybe Thor’s eyes were playing tricks, but he could have sworn he saw Loki’s lips curve upwards slightly.

Thor mentally high-fived himself.

“I hope you’re better at acting than you are small talk,” Loki whispered, eyes trained on Amora who was preparing her papers and situating herself at her desk across the stage.

“I’m sure I’ll manage,” Thor said lightly, “it’s you I’m worried about.”

“I was the president of my school's drama club.”

Thor barked out a laugh and muffles it with the back of his hand when Loki looks at him, insulted.

“No, it’s just,” Thor sighed fondly, “very _you._ ”

Loki squinted his eyes at him, his lips pursed in a thin, white line. “You don’t even know me,” he whispered.

“Not yet,” Thor countered.

“Not ever.”

Thor didn't even let the words sting him. Even though Loki’s tone was clipped and cold— a step-up from refusing to talk to him. It was a small, tiny, minuscule victory.

The same crew member from early rushed up to them, adjusting Thor’s lapels and checking Loki’s mic. “Okay,” he says, still manic, “on the count of three.”

“ _One._ ”

Loki reached over, finding Thor’s hand with his own. He laced their fingers together and Thor’s heart stopped beating.

“ _Two.”_

Loki pressed closer and gave his hand a tight squeeze. When Thor looked down, Loki had a warm half-smile on his face and he gazed up at Thor like he had hung the moon. Thor’s stomach clenched.

“ _Three._ ”

“C’mon, darling,” Loki turned his head, whispering low into the fabric of Thor's shoulder. "Let's give them what they want."

They are both pushed into blinding camera lights and the audience erupted into a thunderous applause.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> www.shineonloki.tumblr.com


	6. when you're apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As far as first dates go, it's awful.

The campaign office was mind-numbingly stuffy; some intern must have turned the thermometer to hellfire. Thor managed to resist the urge to tug at the tie that felt too tight around his throat. He looked at his wrist for the time, realized he didn’t put his watch on, mentally face-palmed, looked at the old wall-clock, realized the batteries had died probably months ago, mentally face-palmed again…

Okay, so maybe he was a _little_ wound up.

He was _supposed_ to be meeting Loki and his mysterious assistant to go over date negotiations. Remembering that his phone doubled as a fancy clock, he hastily pulled it from his pocket. He was late. _How_ _typical_.

A black mass emerged behind the frosted window pane of the conference room. On reflex, Thor rushed to open the door, tongue fully loaded with a sassy quip about the world not revolving around Loki’s time schedule. However, the maybe-not-so-clever insult died in his throat when the figure on the other side was decidedly _not_ Loki.

Unless, of course, Loki had turned into a female about a head shorter and ten years younger. The girl looked up from her phone, a smile breaking out on her face. She looked…familiar.

“Hey, Mr. Thor! I’m here to arrange the date stuff.”

Thor stood with his hand still on the knob, staring at the girl like she had just sprouted a horn. Long, dark hair, youthful spirit, genuine smile— _Where had he seen her_?

Oh yeah _._

“You’re the waitress from Valhalla!” Thor racked his brain for her name. It had started with a _D…Darla, Darlene, Dharma…_ Thor snapped his finger in recognition and exclaimed, “Darcy!”

“Bingo!” Darcy mimicked his snap, “now, are you going to let me in or what?”

“Oh yeah, sorry.”

He moved out of the way and she burst through, slinging the bag off her shoulder and dropping it on the table with a loud _thud._ Thor awkwardly waited at the door, peering out into the empty hallway looking for any sign of Loki.

“Oh, Mr. Laufeyson isn’t coming,” Darcy opened her bag and pulled out an agenda, slumping back into the chair with all the poise of a teenager- though, Thor knew she had to be at least be over twenty.

That statement, however, startled Thor from his careful watch of the third-floor hall.

“Why not?” He tucked his head back into the room, leaving the door open, finally tearing his eyes away and finding a seat opposite Darcy. “More importantly, no offense, but why are you here?”

She raised her head long enough to blink at him. “Well, none taken, even though it _was_ offensive.” Thor opened his mouth to apologize, but she cut him off with a look and a raised hand. “But, yeah, Loki came into Valhalla a couple weeks ago and offered me a job so, you know…” She dropped the paper she was holding for the sole purpose of doing jazz hands. “Here I am.”

Thor thought back to his and Loki’s first date- wait, no, _not date_ \- and how Darcy had been so nice and sympathetic when it looked like Thor’s lunch _companion_ was going to be a no-show. They had even had a conversation with small head gestures and glances, she had totally been on his side!

“Traitor,” Thor said, crossing his arms across his chest like a child but voice still light with humor. “I thought we had a comradery back at Valhalla, now you’re rendezvousing with the enemy.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know that I did find you adorably pathetic and I _did_ feel bad but, Loki…”

“Is more adorably pathetic?”

She ignored his interruption to finish, “is paying me _so much cash_.”

“Ah,” Thor clicked his tongue and leaned back in the office chair, hands behind his head. “So that’s how it is.”

“Yeah, man,” she deadpanned, “I’m a college student. I don’t have the finances to worry about moral allegiances.”

“Fair enough.”

Even if she was on the opposite side of the metaphorical battlefield, Thor liked Darcy.

“Okay, so this relationship has to look real and that’s going to require some public appearances,” she tapped her pen against the clean lines of the blank agenda and fixed Thor with an expectant stare. “So, we are thinking scheduled dates, weekly.”

Weekly? Could he really deal with that asshole weekly? Probably not.

“Monthly,” he countered.

“Bi-weekly,” Darcy held out her hand for Thor to shake on it. “Final offer.”

He rolled his eyes dramatically and took her hand, giving it three tight shakes. Darcy pulled away, a smug smile on her face.

“Fantastic,” she said with fake-professionalism, “my client will be pleased.”

Something told Thor that bi-weekly had been Loki’s originally bargaining chip all along.

“Is he ever pleased?”

Darcy shrugged her shoulders, still smiling. “Next Wednesday sound good for date number one? How about seeing a movie? The less you two have to talk, the more convincing this will probably be.”

Thor pulled up his calendar, which was depressingly empty, and nodded. “Sounds great,” he lied. It didn’t sound great— it sounded awful.

“Okay, cool,” she scribbled something in the notebook and slammed it shut. “I’ll make sure there are cameras, paparazzi, and all that junk to snap some pictures. Just like, hold hands or something on the street.”

Thor said nothing, just stared down a stain, that was suddenly fascinating, on the gray carpet. His stomach was already doing somersaults in his gut and their first _date_ was still a week away. There had been a brief moment when he had thought this might not be so bad but Loki, as usual, crushed that.

As much as it pained him to admit it, Loki’s rejection hurt.

Now he was, what? Supposed to take a guy who loathed his guts to the movies and be forced to hold hands and share popcorn and cuddle in the dark?

“You know,” Darcy hummed, swaying back and forth in her swivel chair and tapping her pen to her lips. “This is a _really_ fucked up situation.”

Thor finally stopped staring at the ground with a vacant expression like he had been lobotomized. He glanced up, forcing a smile which Darcy returned ten-fold.

“Is this your first time being an assistant to a powerful lawyer?” He kept the smile plastered to his face, though it had melted into something more warm and sincere. Her colorful language, her posture, her entire demeanor, really, gave the answer away.

“How am I doing?”

“Fantastic,” Thor said, very truthfully.

 

* * *

 

Tuesday night started with Thor opening his refrigerator and staring at its contents and then walking back to his couch empty-handed,  _five times_. Mjolnir, who is rightfully concerned, followed at his heels around the apartment.

“I don’t get it,” he groaned, leaning down to scratch at the place behind her ear. She didn't respond beyond a purr, probably due to the fact she was a cat.

Thor flung himself onto his sofa and grappled with a throw pillow, wrestling it to his chest. He was not pouting, he told himself, he was brooding. There _was_ a difference. Brunnhilde probably wouldn’t agree, but what did she know?

 

* * *

 

  _Loki played the part easily, all smiles and light laughs. He occasionally reached over and brushed his fingers over Thor’s knee and the touch sent electric waves through his nervous system._

_“I would say this is unexpected but- given the way you two look at each other- I can’t imagine there is a force strong enough to keep you apart for very long,” Amora said, pleased as punch with hearts in her eyes._

_Loki smiled, eyes crinkling, and moved from Thor’s knee to his hand. It was so easy for Thor to turn his palm over and allow their fingers to slot perfectly together. He gave a light squeeze and raised their fists to his mouth to brush a light kiss on the back of Loki’s knuckles. It was so in the moment, he didn't even think to look for Loki's reaction._

_“Yes,” Thor said, turning his attention to Amora, “after the interview, I knew I had to make it right. I’m lucky Loki found it in himself to forgive me.”_

_“Well, you’re lucky you’re so cute,” Loki chided. There was a steadiness in his voice but an unmistakable tremble in his hand._

_“Oh, Loki, I’m sure there more things you admire outside of his obvious good looks.”_

_This was the part where Loki delivered Tony’s, quite frankly, insulting dialogue about what he liked about Thor. He braced himself for the lies about to spill from Loki’s lips. There was something minutely painful about knowing all the compliments were rehearsed and fake._

_“Thor, he-“ Loki paused, licking his lips, brows furrowed in concentration. Oh no, he wasn’t going to go through with it. He was going to ignore everything and call Thor an asshole on television. He had practically already done that, but still._

_Loki gave a quick glance in his direction before starting again, “Thor is selfless, and that’s perhaps what I admire most about him." He flashed a practiced, toothy smile to Amora and then to the audience, "rugged good looks aside."_

_“You see, once in college his friends organized a huge birthday party for him. But a couple of people- that he didn’t even know, by the way- got really drunk, really fast. One was trying to drive them all back home but Thor offered to drive them instead. He spent his entire twenty-first birthday chauffeuring and babysitting drunk strangers across town to make sure they were okay.”_

_Loki…he was going off-script. Big time. The story wasn’t fabricated though; Thor remembered sitting across from him in Valhalla telling it. Admittedly, when he had shared the memory, it had been a lot less chivalrous and much funnier. He is just surprised Loki remembered._

_Still, there was something about the way Loki recalled it fondly with his hand pressed tight into his._

_They made it through the interview without any more hiccups or divergence. When the cameras were off Amora shook both of their hands, lingering just a little too long, before leaving them to break apart and hover awkwardly in one another’s presence._

_“So,” Thor said, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep from doing something stupid like grabbing Loki’s hand again, “that was some good improv back there. I have to say, you truly are a great actor. Good thinking with the story.”_

_All of Loki’s movements came to a screeching halt; if a record had been playing- it would have skipped. The warmth dissipated from him and it left Thor chilling in an icy cloud of abhorrence. He didn't really understand why, because he had wholeheartedly meant it as a compliment._

_Loki turned to him with a cool indifference and Thor tried to swallow the lump in his throat._

_“My assistant will contact you with further information on our arrangement.”_

_“Loki, wait.”_

_Thor took a chance by grabbing at Loki’s wrist, gently pulling him back. He did stop, but only to look down where they were joined with disgust before snatching his hand away._

_“Don’t touch me unless there is a camera present and rolling,” he said sharply, rubbing at his wrist like it hurt._

_Thor couldn’t help but take a step back, away. A deep ache thrummed through him at Loki’s words. It was like a switch had been flipped and he was dealing with two Loki’s. One was warm, charming, and adored Thor. The other one was a fucking dick._

_Unfortunately, at that moment, while Thor watched Loki retreat to the backstage, he remembered that the former Loki was just a carefully crafted illusion._

* * *

 

“You look fine,” Brunnhilde sighed, kicked back on Thor’s bed chewing on the straw of her to-go cup. “You’ve changed outfits fifty-times. You’re going to be in a dark theater, does it really matter?”

Thor frowned at her through his reflection in the mirror and then gave himself a once-over for the tenth time that hour- dark blue v-neck, his _nice_ jeans, and a gray, knit cardigan. Casual? Check. Sophisticated? Check. Date-with-your-enemy worthy? Meh.

Brunnhilde had a point though. It also sealed his deal on the cardigan; theaters were chilly.

“How do I look?” He did a spin with his arms out causing Brunnhilde to roll her eyes, but he didn’t miss her little smile.

“I just said you looked fine.”

“I need to look _more_ than fine.”

This got her attention. She sat up, ditching her drink on the end table, and drug Mjolnir— who immediately tried to escape— into her lap.

“Why more?”

_Shit._

“Because, you know,” he stumbled, “Loki is all about appearance. I don’t want to deal with him disapproving.” It was a weak excuse that held exactly _no_ amount merit.

“Right,” she said with a click of her tongue, “I’m sure that’s it.”

 

* * *

 

 

Unbelievably, Loki was waiting for Thor outside the theater, propped up against the brick with his hands in his pockets. He was still in dress pants and a button-up, but no jacket— which Thor assumes is his _casual_ look.

“You aren’t late,” Thor made sure he sounded astonished and Loki pushed himself off the wall with a little roll of his eyes.

“No, I’m not, but you are,” he jerked his head over to a giant, electronic billboard flashing 7:37. He also didn't miss the woman bundled in a hat and scarf snapping pictures of them.

“Seven minutes,” Thor sighed, exasperated.

“Well,” Loki looked him up and down with a raised brow, “I see the extra minutes weren’t wasted picking out an outfit. Tell me, Thor, are you taking me on a date or to the supermarket?”

To outside ears, it would sound teasing- maybe even flirtatious— in a schoolyard sense. Thor, however, could taste the venom.

A loud, very fake, laugh bellowed from his gut as he wrapped an arm around Loki to pull him close to his side. Loki tensed, aiming to pull away, but Thor could see him catch sight of the photographer and instead, he reluctantly leaned closer to wrap his arm around Thor’s waist.

 “C’mon, _sweetheart_ , we are going to be late.” And, Thor had practically hissed the endearment. Loki pressed his fingers hard into Thor’s side and Thor covered up his wince with a smile. He leaned in close, all but pressing his nose into the soft hair above Loki’s ear. Loki shuddered at the contact.

_Good._

Somewhere in the distance, a camera flashed.

“Can you at least _try_ to make this night pleasant?” Thor growled the whisper just low enough to be heard and punctuated his sentence with a quick nip to Loki’s earlobe.

Fingers pressed into his side again, but this time it wasn’t in retaliation. Thor pulled away, smirking. There was a great satisfaction found in making the prim and polished Loki Laufeyson flustered. He couldn’t really tell under the flashing cinema lights, but he was fairly sure that was a blush on his pale cheeks.

Another tally-mark for Thor.

“After you,” Loki said with a false sweetness but Thor let him lead the way to the ticket booth.

Darcy had picked the movie. It was an action movie— weird choice for a first date— but Thor couldn’t really say that he _hated_ it. This was mostly because he didn’t really watch a good portion of it. If anyone quizzed him on the content he wouldn’t be able to tell them shit about the plot. The troubling part was, he would definitely be able to describe how the blue lights of the film bounced off Loki’s profile, making him look ethereal and godlike.

It made Thor sick.

Every time he got the twitching urge to reach out and take Loki’s hand, or throw his arm around his shoulder, Thor took a handful of buttery popcorn and shoved it into his mouth. So, was only natural that by the time the credits roll- he wanted to hurl for an entirely new reason.

There were a couple other people scattered throughout the theater, but for the most part, they were alone. As the lights grew brighter and the occupants started filtering out, Thor looked to Loki who was frowning down at himself and flicking popcorn off his lap.

It was so incredibly adorable that he couldn't help but smile.

Loki, who sensed being watched, looked over with a dull expression. “What are you looking at?”

“You.”

“ _Obviously._ Why?”

“You’re cute,” Thor said, because _why not?_ This was a date, after all.

Loki, on the other hand, didn't seem flattered. Something flickered on his face, but he stood up, brushing away the last bits of popcorn.

“Puppies are cute,” he commented with absolutely no affection.

“You’re a little more vicious than a puppy.”

“I don’t think you really want to find out how vicious I can be,” Loki bit back. Strangely, it didn't sound menacing at all, just defensive. Even more strange, Thor found it more endearing than threatening.

They stare at each other with only the sounds of their breath echoing in the empty theater. Loki’s chest was heaving, but Thor wasn't so sure it’s with anger anymore. There was something dark in his eyes, a look that he’s seen before. Instinctively, he moved to cup his hands to Loki’s cheeks and Thor felt him exhale sharply.

He leaned in-

“Hey! The movie is over, we are trying to clean up!”

They scrambled apart.

Thor waved a small apology to the custodian angrily sweeping up popcorn and muttering under his breath. Loki walked briskly ahead, not waiting for Thor, and he was basically sprinting by the time he broke away into the night air. Trailing closely behind, Thor tried to stop him, but Loki climbed into the waiting cab too quickly.

As simple as that, he was gone.

“Fuck.”

Thor reached up and pulls at his hair, eyes searching the crowded streets for signs of paparazzi. Thankfully, he looked to be in the clear. It was cold out, he doubted anyone wanted to camp out waiting for the movie to end.

There was a sting behind his eyes, and Thor blamed that on the cold too.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he repeated, defeated.


	7. ever the chase to taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Loki and Thor ever get on the same page? How about the same book? Hell, let's settle for the same library.

“It’s been three months,” Thor lamented. He knows because he had been counting.

Three long months and six disastrous dates where Loki did the bare minimum- in Thor’s honest opinion, at least.

Loki smiled when he was supposed to, touched him when he was supposed to, and said the right things. But, it was cold and left Thor aching.

“Did you ever, you know, talk to him?” Bruce asked, looking over to Brunnhilde- who just shook her head and took a long swig of her beer.

“Have you ever tried talking to him?” Thor questioned, harsher than he intended.

Luckily, it rolled off Bruce’s back and he didn’t take the bait; he just shrugged and shook his head. He was out of his element on this one; the only thing Banner knew of Loki was what was in the press and what Thor and Brunnhilde told him. So, he couldn’t really paint an accurate portrait of the man.

“I have,” Brunnhilde spoke, propping her feet on Thor’s coffee table- which immediately earned her a stern look. She swung them back off and planted her boots firmly on the floor with an agitated twitch. “He is surprisingly easy to talk to.”

Thor gaped, betrayed.

“Yeah, Thor, communication. It’s a thing humans do sometimes.”

He just stared at his friends from his cozy palace of blankets and pillows on the loveseat. “You two are supposed to be on my side.”

Brunnhilde and Bruce both try- and fail- to hold back their laughter; it only makes Thor sink deeper into the loveseat. It was quite the sight; a grown man, nearly ninety percent muscle, pouting in a fort of plush and fluff.

“For someone who loves talking about your feelings with us, you sure hate talking about your feelings to the person that matters.”

Brunnhilde’s assessment was only semi-accurate. The truth was, he had tried many times to talk about his feelings with Loki, but it always ended up the same- with Loki slamming an emotional door between them and huffing off somewhere.

There was the time when Thor took him to dinner and in a moment where Loki seemed particularly inviting, he had told him how beautiful he was. He had been sitting across the small table-for-two, illuminated by the soft glow of the candle, talking fondly about a book he was reading. Thor couldn’t help it, he had been captivated.

The moment he voiced his thoughts, Loki snapped shut and finished his meal in silence.

Then, there was the time they went to the park. A photographer was hanging out a couple benches down, but Thor had tried hard to ignore them. It was probably one of the more irritating aspects of the arrangement.

The temperature had started to heat up, so Loki’s sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and the expanse of his skin was hypnotizing. Thor hadn’t even thought twice about reaching out and gently tracing the fine hairs, stopping at his wrist and sliding their hands together.

Loki had let out a breath at the contact and scooted closer into him, resting his head on his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. Thor had felt like they finally made a breakthrough, but Loki’s gaze had lingered past him and locked onto something in the distance and almost immediately the moment vanished.

He had left his hand, but the grip loosened; even though Loki stayed close, Thor could feel the distance between them grow.

After a while, Thor just stopped trying.

Which, in all fairness, is how he ended up in his emotional-wreck cocoon with his friend’s attempting to cheer him up.

“Yeah,” he croaked, “maybe you’re right. I’ll give it one more go.”

Brunnhilde smiled and reached over with her entire body, giving him a reassuring pat on his foot that dangled off the side of the sofa that was much too small for him.

 “You know, for all that muscle, you’re pretty soft.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Darcy?” Thor cradled the phone with his shoulder, opening his laptop and officially starting the _Make-Loki-Laufeyson-Not-Hate-Me_ mission- the name was a work in progress.

“Hey, Mr. Thor, what’s up!” She said, voice muffled through bites of food on the other line.

“Just Thor,” he corrected her, “and I need a favor.”

She swallowed, and the line stayed silent for a moment. He could hear her shuffling.

“You know Loki doesn’t like me colluding with you.”

“I’ll give you a hundred bucks,” he quipped. Honestly, he knew she would probably do it for free but like she continually liked to point out- she was a broke college kid.

“Deal!” Her voice immediately perked up, “as long as it doesn’t involve something that will get me fired.”

“It… _shouldn’t._ ”

Thor pecked away at his keyboard. He had got the idea from some daytime soap opera he caught one morning. It was probably the sappiest thing he had ever done. Oh well, if anything, Loki would probably appreciate the dramatics over the sentiment.

“Maybe I should know what this favor is before I make commitments.”

Finally, the website loaded. It looked a bit outdated, but hey, it had what he needed.

“I’m going to send Loki flowers, but uh, I’ve never done anything like this before, so I need a second opinion,” he sounded shy, almost embarrassed.

Then again, he was putting a bouquet together for his fake boyfriend who hated his guts.

On the other line, Darcy choked.

“You’re sending Prince Doom-and-Gloom _flowers_?”

The disbelief in her voice was enough to make him rethink this entire plan instantly. Then, in his ear, she laughed- but it wasn’t mocking.

“I gotta’ say, man, that’s pretty sweet.”

“Yeah?” Relief flooded over him and he leaned back in his chair, scrolling through the list of flowers and their meanings. “I haven’t even heard of half of these,” he squinted at the screen, “what’s a Larkspur?”

“No clue. I’m a daisy girl, myself,” she hummed, “send me the link to that site.”

He opened up a new tab, sending her a quick e-mail with the link and returned to the overwhelming list of flowers. Most were too sappy, even for this plan. He was trying to make the guy hate him a little less, not fall in love with him.

“What about a bouquet of pink Camellias?” Darcy teased. Thor scrolled to its description and felt his cheeks go pink. _Longing for you._

“Something less…romantic. How about, hm, Chrysanthemums?”

“Seriously, Thor? _You’re a wonderful friend?_ Do you want to follow it up with a heartwarming bro-hug?”

Thor grimaced. This was harder than he originally thought. All of these flowers were too much, or rather, they would reveal too much. He needed something safe, in case of rejection.

Striped Carnation; _I wish I could be with you._ No, a little too on-the-nose.

Daffodil; _the sun is always shining when I’m with you_ but also, _unrequited love._ No, too confusing.

“How about Gardenias,” Darcy said, voice light, “I think he would like that. Plus, they are pretty.”

Thor stared at the words on the screen, mouth dry and heart threatening to beat out of his chest.

_You’re lovely; secret love._

“Yeah,” Thor whispered, he cleared his throat to chase away the rasp. “Yeah, that’s good. Can you order and have them delivered to my apartment before the gala?”

He could hear her smile through the phone. “You got it.”

 

* * *

 

 

Thor stared at the bouquet on the counter. He had no idea that a bundle of glorified weeds could _taunt him_. But, here he was, staring at them like they threatened his family.

It _was_ a pretty arrangement, all white flowers- fully bloomed and fragrant- the cellophane tied off with a silky green ribbon. But the more Thor stared at it, the more anxious it made him. Loki wasn’t one for romance. Hell, he could barely get a smile out of him without a camera present. Still, he was determined- blindly so.

Thor would have been embarrassed by how he jumped when Darcy finally knocked on the door if he hadn’t, just seconds ago, been stressed out over flowers.

She doesn’t wait for him to answer and allows herself in, placing her hands on her hips and giving the apartment a once-over. “So, this is where Thor lives, huh?” She walked over to his bookshelf and flicked a bobblehead hula girl souvenir Banner had got him on his trip to Hawaii, watching it bounce from side to side before turning back around.

“So,” she huffed, eyes still soaking up his living space. “Did you get the _package_?”

The way she said it made it seem like they were talking about a bomb and not a bouquet. Though, to be fair, this could very well turn into an explosion with how irritatingly fickle Loki could be.

He nodded an affirmative and plucked the flowers from the counter, handling them gently to her like they were a real mine. She took them from his hand, less gently, and inspected them with a confusing amount of vigor, poking at the petals and shifting flowers around until she was satisfied.

“Great,” she said finally, shoving them back into Thor’s chest. “He’s going to love them.”

Thor really doubted that, but her optimism was contagious.

Downstairs, Thor gawked. A stretch limo was parked in front of his apartment building, taking up the space of three cars. He knew that the valet was  _loving_ that. The gala was a black-tie event, hosted for the families of all the candidates and others of varying political power, but the limousine was probably taking it a step too far.

In fact, standing in front of it with a bouquet of flowers and sweaty palms— Thor felt like he was going to prom.

Darcy passed him in his stupor, heels clicking on the pavement- finally noticing that she’s also dressed for the event. She opened the door and did a grand gesture.

“Your chariot, sir.”

Thor slid inside, scooting across the leather seat until he’s pressed against something too soft to be the door. He looked over at Loki, who was now plastered against the tinted window with an annoyed look on his face.

“There are plenty more seats, you know?”

Heat crept to Thor’s cheeks and he scooted back the way he came, away from the warmth of Loki. He was internally thankful for the dim lights that hid the nervous blush he new sported.

“What’s that?” Loki was staring at his lap and Thor looked down to see the bouquet in his hands.

“What? Have you never seen flowers before?” Darcy chided, not looking up from her phone.

Caught up in the presence of Loki, Thor hadn’t even noticed her taking a seat opposite of them. Loki gave a light laugh and kicked playfully at her foot, and Thor tried to stomp down the pang of jealousy sparked by witnessing their obvious closeness.

“They are for you,” Thor cut in, pushing the flowers to Loki in a manner that could definitely _not_ be defined as smooth.

Loki fumbled taking them, looking from Thor to Darcy with wide eyes. He lowered his gaze to the flowers and blinked. This would be the part where he stammered a shy _thank you_ and gave Thor a peck on the cheek— or lips. However, this was  _Loki,_ so he snorted and said: “Are you sure they aren’t for the driver?”

“Be grateful,” commented Darcy, still more interested in her phone than them.

“My cup runneth over,” Loki returned, voice monotone.

Thor closed his fist tightly, so tight that he could feel his nails leaving crescent-shaped indentions in his palms. Something unpleasant coiled in his stomach and made it hard to look in Loki’s direction. He could imagine the condescending smirk but was afraid actually seeing it would make him come unglued.

Unfortunately, because Thor refused to look, he missed the way Loki smiled down into the flowers— raising them to his face and inhaling with a wistful little sigh.

“What’s this?”

Despite his frustration, Thor looked over at the question. Loki was frowning at the bouquet, rooting his fingers through the petals to pull a yellow flower from the blossoms. He twirled the stem between his fingers, inspecting it thoroughly.

“Oh, weird, I think that’s a Jonquil,” Darcy commented, a strange tilt to her voice. She looked nervously over at Thor, but he can’t quite read her expression. She was acting odder than usual, which was saying something.

"Huh,” Loki hummed under his breath, looking from the flower to Thor. His face softened, shifting closer- causing Thor’s heartbeat to quicken- to hold the flower beside Thor’s ear. He tilted his head to the side with a closed-lipped smile, a strangely innocent gesture. “It matches your hair.”

“ _Oh,_ ” Thor said because it was all his brain could produce with Loki so willingly close.

They stared at each other, quiet and intense. Thor licked his lips and, just like at the bar, Loki’s eyes tracked the movement. The spell was only broken when Darcy coughed causing Loki to sit back, but only barely, and move to tuck the flower into Thor’s suit jacket pocket.

“Like sunshine,” he whispered, and it was so low Thor almost didn't catch it. It was such an odd thing to say, but for some reason, it created a warm tingle in his heart. Loki gave a little pat to secure the flower in place and Thor allowed himself to smile— like sunshine.

 

* * *

 

 

The gala was dreadfully boring. So boring, in fact, Thor was using adjectives like _dreadfully._

The place was full and equally split between people he recognized and people he had never seen before in his life. The silver lining was that Thor got to watch Loki in his element. He had only lingered with Thor for a few minutes before excusing himself, with a champagne flute in hand, to dazzle the pants off a senator and his wife.

Everywhere he went, people’s eyes followed, Thor was no exception. From across the room, Thor watched him tilt his head back- giving a full-body laugh- while pressing a hand to the middle of some graying old man’s back. Thor knew there was no way in hell that sack of bones had said anything remotely funny enough to warrant a reaction like that. Laufeyson just liked to flatter and he was  _good_ at it.

Loki looked over, catching his gaze, and smiled around the lip of his glass. Then he winked, flirtatious and slow, and Thor’s mouth went dry. He downed his own glass of wine in one go to drown the butterflies in his stomach.

Hours passed, or maybe minutes- Thor couldn’t be for sure; time was dragging. He had long since switched to water after the pleasant wine-buzz in his head appeared. He didn’t trust himself to be drunk around Loki, not after the first time.

Loki, it seemed, did not have the same idea. In fact, Thor wasn’t sure what he was thinking at all when he sauntered over and grabbed his hand, pulling him around the corner, behind a velvet curtain, and into an abandoned hallway.

It’s so sudden Thor doesn’t have time to react or protest- not that he would.

He pushed him farther down the corridor and away from any possible prying eyes. Thor stumbled along, mind and body trying to keep up.

Once he was satisfied with their solitude, he pressed himself against Thor’s bulk with desperate, sloppy movements.

“Thor Odinson,” Loki purred into his ear, stroking a delicate hand up his chest, pressing insistent fingers into the muscle. The sigh, which sounded more like a moan, fell from Thor’s lips involuntarily.

“I saw you watching me,” he slurred. Thor could feel him smiling into his skin and then- a hot, wet, lick up his neck. He sucked in a breath and Loki laughed, low and dangerous. His body felt amazing, unrelenting and demanding against his own- clouding Thor’s head from better judgment.

A judgment that was willing to remind him that _Loki was drunk and he wasn't._

He needed to stop this, but it was so hard when Loki was pressing kisses into the crook of his neck between breathy moans and shoving his hands beneath his jacket, pushing it hastily off Thor’s shoulders.

 “Loki,” he groaned and even he couldn’t tell if it was a plea for more or a plea to stop.

He was working Thor’s jacket down his arms now, not pulling away for long. Their bodies kept crashing together, like opposite ends of a magnet. Thor let his head slam against the wall as Loki pressed his weight against him again, bracketing Thor’s hips and hitching a leg up, grinding upwards.

“Loki,” he managed to growl out a little more firmly, trying and failing to push him away- the invisible magnetism keeping them together and wanting.

Loki looked up at him, eyes glassed over and red, with his hair disheveled. This close Thor can smell the alcohol rolling off him. It was the only thing that helped ground him when Loki ran his hand through the hairs at the back of his head and whispered:  “Kiss me.”

Fuck, he wanted to. He had been thinking about it for weeks— months. Even when he was convincing himself he didn’t want Loki Laufeyson, there was a nagging voice reminding him how it felt to kiss him.

However, that same nagging voice was urging him not to fuck this up— not to take advantage.

He shoved Loki back and felt a sharp pain in his heart when he watched him stumble, drunk and confused.

“You’re drunk,” he said like that’s going to wipe away the heartbreak on Loki’s face. He stood there, opposite of him, chest heaving and eyes watering.

“What?” Loki’s voice was shaky. “ _So_?”

“I’m- I can’t, Loki.”

He wanted to, but he couldn't. He wanted to do this right.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Loki spat, adjusting his collar and smoothing out his pants- trying to regain some dignity. “Is this too _real_ for you, Thor?”

Thor didn't even have the time or patience to work out whatever the hell that was supposed to mean.

“No, Loki,” he tried again, attempting to keep his voice calm. “You’re drunk.”

Loki laughed, but it came out more like a sob. “Oh, the valiant Thor- defending my honor!” He sneered, pacing back and forth, growing father away from him.

“You know,” he started, voice steadier by the second, but not actually giving Thor time to reply before continuing his tirade. “I thought you actually wanted this.” He waved a hand, gesturing between them. “I thought,” he trailed off, looking towards the end of the hallway before letting out a resigned huff. “Nevermind. Forget it.”

“Loki- “

“Forget it.”

Thor clamped his mouth shut. He knew there is no point in arguing anymore; Loki had already made up his mind to hate him. He knew, deep down, that he did the right thing- but that didn't stop the cruel sting. The best thing at the moment was to let Loki leave because if he stayed, he was likely to give in. 

Loki stopped his pacing and ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back behind his ears. “I’m going to return to the party, wait a couple minutes before you follow. Okay?” Thor is amazed at how calm and professional he now sounds. 

“Got it,” Thor nodded. He reached down, picking up his jacket where Loki had shucked it to the floor. He slipped it back on, struggling to cover up the fact that he was seconds away from fucking Loki against the wall.

Loki didn't say anything else, just gave Thor an undecipherable look before heading back down the hallway. Something bubbled in the back of his throat and it tasted a lot like regret.

Thor was too distracted by the way Loki was wiping at the corner of his eye, and the way his shoulders shook as he retreated to notice the small, frail, yellow flower lying crumpled on the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have some fluff...now, immediately have some angst!  
> Btw, to further the pain, Jonquils are supposed to mean "affection returned" or "desire for returned affection".


	8. rose-tinted glasses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tide shifts.

It’s hard not to notice the way his attendance in actual campaign meetings dwindled down to nearly nothing.

Natasha may have tried to find a loophole in Odin’s banishment, but ultimately, his wish was being carried out. There was still money being deposited into his account weekly from Tony- but he wasn’t really earning it at all.

Unless, of course, they considered occupying Loki a job; that thought made him sick to his stomach. Which, in itself, was a feat considering his stomach had been one giant knot since the gala.

Thor tried not to think about it too much, but the memory played behind his eyes every time he closed them. What if he had just given in? Would Loki hate him more for taking advantage, more than denying him? Still, dwelling on all the alternate possibilities did nothing for him but make him miserable.

He was stuck in this timeline; the one where Loki hated him regardless of his decision.  

It’d been a week, which meant their next impending date was coming- _if_ they were even going to continue with the charade. Hell, he wasn’t entirely sure he mentally could anymore. As for Loki, well, he had said he was playing to win- so why did it feel like they were both losing?

He had been surprisingly civil after the incident. When Thor had finally regained himself and pushed from behind the velvet curtain his eyes easily found Loki, mingling by the banquet table with a group of suits. He smiled, tight-lipped, with sad eyes and never once looked over. Thor, however, didn't let him out of his sight.

He groaned and threw his head back on the pillow, pressing his palms to his eyes to push the memories away. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking of this. In defeat, he turned his head to Mjolnir who was curled in a fluffy, gray ball on the pillow next to him.

“At least you love me, right?”

She opened one yellow eye and let out a raspy meow.

A loud knock on the door made both of them jump- Mjolnir scattered from her bed and darted out of the room. Thor, on the other hand, wasn’t quite as agile in his movements. He took his time rolling out of bed while the knocking continued, loud and persistent.

“This better be important,” he grumbled, picking up his discarded sweatpants from the floor, slipping them on and heading to the door as fast as his sleep-lead legs would take him.

With the knocking, he’s half-expecting Brunnhilde, or maybe even Darcy- probably to chew him out for being an asshole to her boss. He’s not expecting a lanky, bored teenager in a bright, pink polo and hand full of purple flowers.

“Thor Odinson?” he asked, smacking his gum.

What is happening right now?

“Yeah,” he replied, hoping it didn’t sound like a question.

“From one Mister,” the kid squinted at his sheet and read, “Loki Laufeyson?”

Thor ignored the face the boy made and reached for the flowers, snatching them a little too quickly. He told him to wait there and dug a few bucks out of his wallet, handing them to the delivery boy and shutting the door with a polite smile.

Once the door was closed he pressed his back against it, staring down at the numerous purple blooms in awe.

Loki sent him flowers.

 _Loki_ sent _him_ flowers.

He pressed his nose into the blossoms and inhaled, not caring at all that he was acting like a fourteen-year-old that just got asked to the homecoming dance. You didn’t send people flowers because you hated them, so it was a step in the right direction.

You did, however, send people flowers for sympathy. Thor’s brief moment of happiness vanished, and worry settled in its place. He inspected the bouquet, finding a little tag hanging off the red ribbon tying it all together.

Thor sucked in a breath and held it; the moment of truth. He squeezed his eyes shut and flipped the card over, opening one eye cautiously to read the handwritten note on the other side. He knew that Loki wasn’t the one to write it, but that didn’t stop him from hearing his voice as he read.

_Purple Hyacinths- I’m sorry.  
                  - Sincerely, L. Laufeyson_

Something warm and pleasant coiled in his chest and he couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of him. He pulled a glass out of his cabinet for a makeshift vase, filling it with water and arranging the flowers meticulously.

His eye caught sight of something bright standing out in a sea of purple. Carefully, he pulled out a yellow flower that he recognized from the night of the gala.

“Oh,” he said stupidly, looking down at Mjolnir who was already staring at flowers with a poise to attack, “he must be trying to apologize for the gala.”

He tucked the yellow flower back into its bed of purple and lifted the glass right as Mjolnir pounced.

Reasonably, he decided to set them on his bookcase, high enough to keep Mjolnir away from her new fascination. Satisfied, he stood in the middle of the living room- a goofy grin spread on his face- admiring the bright pop of color in his otherwise boring room.

Later he found his phone on his nightstand to make an important phone call. After several rings, a sleepy— slightly agitated— voice rumbled from the other end.

“Darcy? I need another favor.”

 

* * *

 

 

Thor stared at the gray door. It was sleek and modern but, then again, he would expect nothing else from a luxury high-rise apartment. The walls of the hallways were bright and crisp and large rubber plants sat in the corners of the walkway. Even the air had a clean aroma- it was hard to tell the building was even lived in.

Honestly, Thor couldn’t believe Darcy actually released the address. It had taken _a lot_ of persuasion and Thor had to answer _a lot_ of questions. The two main ones being: “What are your intentions with my employer?” and “Are you prepared to cover funeral costs when he murders me?”

In the end, she had relented.

Mustering all of the courage he had left- albeit, it wasn’t a lot- he knocked. He tried to make it sound friendly and not like a police squad, but his nerves got the better of him. A sense of dread rushed through him. He should run, right? Yeah, he should definitely run.

He can’t run though, because a very irritated Loki is swinging the door open with looks set to kill.

“How did you get this address?”

Thor stumbled, he could- technically speaking- still run. He contemplates but decided against it.

“Hello to you too,” he replied instead, leaning against the doorframe in an act that is supposed to be suave but just makes Loki raise a questioning brow.

“Hello.”

They stare at each other, blinking. Okay, so maybe he hadn’t got this far in his plan.

He looked Loki over, realizing this is the most underdressed he’s ever seen him: soft, black running pants and a loose white t-shirt. Loki must notice he’s being checked out because he starts to nervously shift on his bare feet.

“Let’s try this again,” he regained his cool, which forces Thor to meet his eyes.

Thor would very much like to try all of this again, starting from day one.

“How did you get my address?”

But, alas, Loki is referring to the conversation.

“Doesn’t matter,” he replied and Loki’s lips thin in aggravation. Thor just offered a smile and clapped a hand on his shoulder, using every ounce of energy he has to not knead the soft flesh. “We are going on a date.”

Loki cast a suspicious look at Thor’s hand before he delicately brushed it off his shoulder.

“Oh dear,” he said dryly in response, “is it that time already?”

“Afraid so,” Thor whispered with a solemn, but playful, shake of his head.

Loki huffs a little laugh and Thor is mesmerized by the small smile that's still on his lips. Something, though he can’t name what, has shifted between them and for the first time he feels… _hopeful._

“Fine, let me change and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“No need to change, you need to dress comfortably.”

That seemed to intrigue Loki and Thor tried not to seem too triumphant. When Loki shut the door in his face this time, he did it with a smile.

 

* * *

 

 

“Did you get my apology?”

They had been driving for almost twenty minutes in comfortable silence. Loki sat slumped in the passenger seat, head pillowed against the window and eyes focused on the tree line blurring past them.

He had listened to Thor’s advice and hadn’t changed but did opt to tie his wavy hair back into a loose bun at the nape of his neck. It was probably the most relaxed Thor had ever seen him— even with his pensive stare out the window.

“The flowers?” Thor asked, even though he knew the answer. “Yeah, they were pretty, thank you. But, Loki,” he turned to take in the sight of him as long as he could before turning his attention back to the road, “you didn’t have to apologize.”

Loki laughed at that and from the corner of his eye, he could see him wringing his hands in his lap— a nervous gesture.

“Yes, I did,” he said, burrowing into his seat and groaning. “I was embarrassing.”

“No, you were just drunk. It happens.”

“I shouldn’t have got angry at you, you were being…”

“An asshole?” Thor supplied when it seemed like Loki was going to trail off and never finish his thought.

“No, well- yes, you often are,” he laughs- quietly- almost sad, “but no, you were being _kind_. Not many would be so considerate.”

Loki stayed propped against the glass, picking at his bottom lip in thought before rolling his head to the side to look at Thor.

“So, thanks,” he whispered, and Thor doesn’t respond, just reached over and gave what he thought was a reassuring pat to his knee.

However, friendly, reassuring pats usually last a few seconds but Thor let his hand rest there. After a few moments, Loki moved his hand over Thor’s and covered it, warm and safe— grounding them.

Neither of them speak, but both smile.

 

* * *

 

 

“An amusement park?”

Thor beamed from behind him, and even though Loki’s scowl is back, his voice held no malice.

“Yeah! It will be fun.”

They both looked up at the gate, designed probably sometime in the early nineties. It was a small thing, as far as amusement parks go, but Thor’s mother had taken him there many times as a child. It held good memories and, more importantly, some pretty kick-ass rides. The fact that it was far enough away from the city that they wouldn't be recognized was just the icing on the cake.

“I’m not a child,” Loki chided and Thor just grinned and knocked shoulders with him.

“Oh? Then why do you act like one?”

Loki frowned to hide his grin and returned the playful shove of shoulders. Afterward, he lingered, pressing into Thor’s space and— in a moment of bravery— Thor linked their hands together. He felt Loki’s fingers twitch, but he didn't pull away.

Once they are through the gate, Loki did let his hand drop. Thor didn't protest because it was in favor of wandering away, looking in the windows of gift shops and taking a map of the park from a brightly painted booth.

Thor positioned himself behind him, craning his head over his shoulder to look down at the map; but, it’s just a thinly veiled excuse to feel Loki pressed against him again. He could probably map this place out himself, provided it hadn’t changed too much since his childhood.

“Let’s ride that.” He reached over Loki’s shoulder, pressing his body closer, to point at the twisting rollercoaster icon on the pamphlet.

“The rollercoaster?” Loki’s voice was breathy and low, and Thor has to remind himself that he is in public.

“What,” Thor teased and pressed his luck, leaning into Loki’s cheek, “are you scared?”

“No,” Loki huffed and pulled away with a pink face, clearly rattled. It seemed Loki was only okay with being overtly suggestive when he was the one doing it.

Thor smiled to himself. _Noted._

Loki looked off into the distance, finding the looming orange coaster peeking out above the park, visibly gulping.

“I just have a strong sense of self-preservation,” he stated like that was a reasonable excuse not to get on a ride.

“You’re scared.” Thor didn't hold back the toothy grin breaking out on his face.

Loki scoffed and rolled his eyes, walking in the direction of the rollercoaster and jerking his head— a motion beckoning Thor to follow.

“Now who is being the child?”

“I’m teasing,” Thor replied, though it was obvious. They had been teasing other all day, maybe even longer than that.

 

* * *

 

 

They ride the rollercoaster and Loki screamed and afterward, promptly threatened to gut Thor if he ever told a soul. Thor threw his hands up in surrender and swore, even though he was definitely telling _at least_ Bruce.

They wandered around the park for another hour, riding a few less exhilarating rides and browsing a few shops. At one point, Thor took his hand to pull him through a crowd of people— so they wouldn’t get separated— and after breaking through, didn’t let go.

Loki kept close, pressing against the line of Thor’s body and taking everything in with wonderous, but skeptical eyes. He made Thor buy him a lemonade and winked he caught Thor staring at his lips wrapped around the straw.

Their date, probably their most successful one so far, was cut short when a fat droplet of water hit Thor right between the eyes. Strange, because the forecast hadn’t warned for rain. He looked to Loki who is also pelted with a drop, eyes going cross trying to watch as it runs down his nose.

“We should- “

He was cut off by a crack of thunder in the distance and they both exchange a look of worry. The rain started in sporadic drops, hitting the pavement in little splashes, but quickened to an almost brutal pace. Loki fished the map out of his pocket and opened it completely, holding it above their heads like a canopy.

Thor turned his head, so close under the paper shelter— that he knew it wasn't going to hold up in the slightest. _So close_ that he can see all the faint freckles smattered along the bridge of Loki’s nose and cheekbones; weird how he never noticed them before. His face was damp and soft, and Thor’s fingers itched to smooth the creases by his eyes.

“We should head back to the car,” Loki whispered, breath close and tickling against Thor’s lips. He swallowed dryly and nods. Another large clap of thunder made them both jump and Loki’s face broke out into a smile.

“Sooner the better, it doesn’t look to be letting up.”

They moved quickly to the exit, trying to beat the rain, the piss-poor makeshift umbrella being tossed in a bin the second they cross one. Like children, they run back to the car in the downpour. If they were being sensible, they would have found shelter in the café and had lunch but, when had they been sensible about anything?

They both slide into the car, soaking wet and heaving. They looked across the seat towards each other, both taking in the sight before them. Loki was drenched, white shirt clinging to the lithe, lean muscles and dark hair plastered to his face.

“You’re wet,” Loki commented, looking him up and down. Thor looked down at himself as if he hadn’t noticed.

“So are you.”

He turned back to Loki who was twisted in the seat fully towards him, not quite sitting down. His lashes were dripping, and his mouth slightly opened; his pink tongue darted out, swiping at the rain that trickled to his lips.

Then he laughed, loud and boisterous into the cramped space of the car. Thor realized, after a moment, it was so loud because he was laughing too.

The sound of Loki’s genuine laugh, not one that was practiced or for cameras, warmed the cold rain from him. He wasn’t sure if he had ever heard anything quite as wonderful; even better than Loki's breathy, demanding moans.

He was so entranced, he didn’t notice he- himself- had stopped laughing until Loki’s tapered off. The atmosphere in the car shifted, but not to something unpleasant, just…different.

It was a static that pulsed through them, sparking something that had been trying to ignite for weeks.

Loki moved first, crawling across the seat, still dripping, and took Thor’s face in his hands. He leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together and Thor forgot how to breathe.

A memory of Loki, drunk, pressing against him whispering ' _kiss me'_ flashed through his mind.

He had wanted to then.

Thor closed the distance and pressed to give a tentative kiss and Loki sighs into it. He pulled back, thumbing Thor’s cheek and staring like he is made of glass, then he crashed their mouths back together in a hungry and needy claim.

Thor reached to Loki’s neck, cradling the nape beneath the mop of wet curls. He opened up, allowing Loki to lick his way inside, all while pressing closer and forcing Thor to twist to face him, nearly climbing into his lap.

Kissing Loki like this was nothing like kissing Loki in the bar bathroom.

He pulled away, just to breath, and Loki caught his bottom lip between his teeth. That tiny action alone is enough set off the pool of arousal simmering within him; he can feel Loki smile around the bite. His hands fall from Thor’s face to the bottom hem of his white t-shirt and he shoved his cold fingers beneath the wet, sticking fabric.

The touch came as a shock and he jolted, smashing his elbow into the steering wheel. The horn blared through the parking lot and Thor’s heart nearly stopped.

He scrambled to shift away from the horn- stopping the noise- and Loki, regretfully, pulled back. He slumped back into his seat, twisting to put his belt, a strange twinkle lingering in his eyes.

Thor really fucking hated that horn.

“We should probably head back, it looks like the rain has let up,” Loki hummed. Thor looked out the window to see that, yeah, it had- even though gray clouds still loomed overhead.

Only a _tad_ flustered, he agreed and clicked his seatbelt into place. But, he kept his mouth closed because he was pretty sure if he didn’t, the butterflies in his stomach would spill out and no one was trying to deal with a sedan full of confused insects.

They traveled back home in silence, save for the odd and end commentary from Loki when they passed something weird on the side of the road. He did steal a glance over to the passenger seat whenever he could. Every time, Loki was staring out the window with a blissed-out expression and legs spread— almost suggestively. Truthfully, it would have been seductive if he didn’t look so damn peaceful and _happy_.

When they finally rolled up to Loki’s apartment building, the sun was breaking through the clouds and shining. Wordlessly, Loki reached over and planted a kiss on his cheek and then gets out, leaving Thor with his shell-shocked expression.

The closing of the door brought him back to reality. He should say something, right? Like goodbye? Like a normal, human person? He clumsily reached for the button and rolled the passenger window down shouting something unintelligible that he  _thought_ was  _hey_!

Loki ducked back in the window, eyebrows knit together in confusion and amusement.

“Pardon?”

 _Shit_ , now what?

“I had fun today,” Thor blurted out.

_Stupid._

Loki just gave him a lop-sided smile and patted his hand on the car.

“Yeah, me too.”

“I’ll see you?”

“Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please know that when I read the comment about their relationship being a rollercoaster, I looked at my chapter 8 draft and laughed.


	9. love to feel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki stands Thor up and it goes better than expected.

Thor almost wished he hadn’t insisted on attending his father’s meeting. He had all but slipped through their fingers, content with doing the bare minimum, but as the campaign headed towards its end he felt as though he needed to contribute _something_.

Something positive, at least.

They all sat around the table, papers with numbers and graphs strolled about the office. He tried to make sense of it, but after being both physical and mentally absent for so long, it looked like hieroglyphics mixed with gibberish.

He knew they were up in the polls, though. Tony had said as much, multiple times.

Thor stared down at his paper, feigning both interest and understanding. He let his mind wander to Loki, who hadn’t seen since their date to the amusement park. Even with over a week separating them, Thor could still feel the tingle on his lips. The taste of Loki was burned onto his tongue- but it wasn’t enough. 

He felt a spark of interest pool low in his stomach and panicked. A conference room full of co-workers- the term used loosely- and his _dad_ was not the place for what his body threatened to do.

His father must have read his pained expression for something else because he suddenly looked concerned, leaning forward and studying him with a watchful eye.

Ah yes, his father’s demeaning gaze- a natural boner killer.

“How are things with Loptr?”

Thor’s head jerked at the strange name, forgetting for a second who Loptr was. Natasha looked up briefly from her papers and even though she lowered her gaze quickly, Thor knew she was still listening. He also didn’t miss the way her lips quirked at one corner in a tiny, knowing smirk.

“Good,” he said as casually as he could. He picked up a paper with an illustration of a bar graph showing popularity among various demographics to study it with a quiet intensity and hoped that it would end the conversation.

“Is he giving you any trouble?”

“No,” Thor replied, too loud and too defensive. Most of the heads at the table looked up slightly and the already silent room grew even quieter.

Odin didn’t even flinch at his tone, just nodded his head and continued to stare as he searched his son’s face for any trace of dishonesty.  

“It was only a question,” he smiled lightly and, before Thor could even think to respond, added, “it doesn’t matter, it will be over soon. Natasha has told me you two haven’t been mentioned in the media in almost a month. There is really no reason for you to keep up the act.”

A sharp, stabbing pain thrummed through Thor’s chest at that comment. Somehow in the midst of all the teasing and _kissing_ , he had forgotten that this was all an arrangement. That is was going to _end._ His stomach fluttered, but it wasn’t the same feeling as when Loki kissed him.

Beneath the table, Brunnhilde gave a light kick to his foot. He didn’t look her way but clinched his fist on his lap and nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

His father’s watch was still on him, but it turned thoughtful. For a reason unbeknownst to Thor, Odin looked over at Natasha who non-verbally communicated something with a raise of her eyebrow and tilt of her head.

Odin cleared his throat, preparing to speak, but Thor decided to spare himself. He didn’t need another reminder that whatever was passing between him and Loki was a ruse. So, before his father could speak, with the steadiest voice he could muster, said, “I have reservations next week for dinner, I’ll let Laufeyson know the arrangement is terminated.”

Saying it, Thor decided, was ten times worse than thinking about it.

Natasha narrowed her eyes at him and then flicked her gaze back down, once again submerged into her work.

“What if he gets pissed and pulls another stunt?” Tony leaned back in his chair, latching his hands behind his head and resting it against them. Normally, Thor became slightly irritated when Tony bumped into his affairs, but at that moment- Thor wanted to kiss him.

“Thor needs to do what he feels is right,” Odin replied, sternly.

“Uh,” Tony drawled and looked around the room with an expression crossed with disbelief and amusement, “isn’t that what got us into this in the first place?”

Thor shot him an annoyed glare from across the table and Tony just shrugged helplessly. Well, he wasn’t wrong.

Wordlessly, Thor excused himself to the hallway. He tucked himself into the small alcove that housed the noisy vending machine that didn’t take his money half the time. He leaned against it and cradled his head in his hands.

He had known from the beginning that this relationship wasn’t real. Hell, Loki had reminded him on several occasions- usually after Thor’s touch had lingered a little too long. But, hearing it out loud set off a wave of uneasiness inside him that cut deep.

Still, Thor couldn’t ignore the way Loki had sighed against his lips or the way he leaned into his touch or the way he caressed his thumb while they held hands. Those things had been real. Loki had gone out of his way to pull Thor into that deserted hallway, away from whispers and eyes. Thor had picked a date destination where he knew they didn’t have to be Odinson and Laufeyson- only Thor and Loki.

Without thinking, Thor pulled his phone from his back pocket and opened a new message to Loki.

                **To: Loki**  
                I miss you.  
                _sent: 10:19am_

Thor pressed further into the vending machine, gently thumping his head back against it, eyes closed tight. This would tell him everything. If Loki responded- the way deep down he knew he would- then he had no reason to worry. There was no one monitoring their texts. Well, as far as he knew. He probably wouldn’t put it past Natasha to have that power.

His phone vibrated twice from where it was tightly squeezed in his palm. He looked down, holding his breath, and opened the message.

                **From: Loki**  
                I miss you too.  
                _sent: 10:21am_

Thor let out a relieved laugh and rubbed his thumb softly over the screen.

What did his dad know anyway?

 

* * *

 

 

Thor paced outside Valhalla, the warmth of the waning summer sun doing nothing for his gloomy disposition. Loki tended to run late for their meetings and, even though it puzzled him how he could be a lawyer and so carelessly unpunctual, it didn’t really bother him.

He had decided not to get a table. Last time he was made to wait and garner sympathy from the staff, Loki gained an assistant. He liked Darcy, truly, but he couldn’t handle two of her.

Loki was late- _late._ He pulled out his phone and cringed when he saw he'd been standing outside for over an hour. It had also been over thirty minutes since Thor had texted a casual inquiry about his whereabouts and received no reply.

A feeling of dread surfaced from the dark pits of his mind. He kept his eyes trained on the road, looking for any sign of a ridiculous silver smart-car but was met with consistent traffic and no sign of Loki.

“Sir. Is everything okay?” A calm voice echoed behind him and he turned, too quickly, to lock eyes with a mousy girl wearing a polite smile. Briefly, Thor tried to picture her hanging out with Darcy and running errands for Loki. No, he decided, she would be eaten alive.

Things weren’t alright. He had scared his fake-boyfriend off and worst of all- his father was probably right. Still, he couldn’t really tell her that, so he smiled and told her everything was fine, and he is pretty sure she believed him. It didn’t stop her from looking over her shoulder and whispering to another server though.

Thor nodded to the two ladies and gave a small wave of his hand before shoving it into his pockets and crossing the street to his parked car. He wasn’t going to add getting in trouble for loitering to his day’s events; which currently consisted of heartbreaking disappointment.

Once behind the wheel, he let his body sag against the leather seats, running a hand through his hair before slamming it on his steering wheel. The idea struck him as he turned the key, feeling the engine purr to life. He would just drop by Loki’s apartment and check on him, make sure he hadn’t fallen in the shower and cracked his head or something. He wasn’t exactly in the age range for life-alert, after all.

He didn’t think, just drove down and took the correct turns- and once, _incorrect_ turn- until arriving at the towering building of shiny metal and clear glass. His palms were sweating the entire elevator ride up. He tried to give the old lady hunched in the corner a smile but figured it must have come out deranged rather than attractive because she gave a yelp and busied herself with inspecting the ceiling.

By the time the door opened on the twenty-eighth floor, his legs were lead and his stomach was flipping more than their rollercoaster ride. Still, when he arrived at Loki’s doorstep he steeled himself and knocked, rocking on his feet as he waited.

From beyond the door, Thor could hear shuffling and then a crash, and then a string of grumbles, and then a cough. After what feels like a decade, the handle rattled, and Loki opened the door and slumped against it.

“Thor?”

Thor knows it’s a rhetorical question, so he doesn’t answer. He looks like shit.

“You look like shit.”

Loki grimaced and attempted to stand a little straighter, pulling the heavy quilt around his shoulders. His face was paler than usual, but so washed out Thor could no longer see freckles. His eyes were baggy, purple and red, and his skin had a light, glossy shine.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, ignoring the insult and moving to let Thor in.

“You didn’t show up for our date, I was making sure you weren’t dead.”

He had never actually been inside Loki’s apartment, probably due to the fact he had only recently learned the address. He gave it a quick look around- clean, white, minimal, a lot of plant life. There was time for inspecting late because Loki was falling back onto his dark leather couch with a painful groan.

“Not dead, but I am sick,” he complained, letting the quilt fall from his shoulders and pool around him. Thor could tell his gray shirt was damp with fever sweat and he tried not to let his eyes trail further down- where Loki was clad in only tight, black boxer briefs.

“Shit,” Loki then hissed, “I’m sorry, I must have passed out.”

“It’s okay,” Thor replied because it really was. He took note of the empty bottles of water and clutter of tissue littering the coffee table in the otherwise pristine apartment. “Do you need anything?” Thor kicked an empty water bottle, much to Loki’s disdain.

“Just let me die in peace,” Loki groaned, dramatically lolling his head to the side and sinking further into the cushions.

Thor bent over to pick up a bottle of medicine from the coffee table, turning it in his hands and glossing over the instructions. “When is the last time you took this?”

Loki lay with his forearm draped over his face, now completely sprawled out on the couch; one long, pale leg hanging off and enticing Thor to touch it. He shook away the urge and turned his attention back to the bottle.

“Maybe four hours ago?”

“Okay,” Thor breathed. He pulled the cup off the lid and opened it, pouring up to the line- thankful for something to do with his hands. “It says it might make you drowsy, but I figure that will be better than making you a corpse.”

“Barely,” Loki moaned but sat up, swaying a bit from side to side. Thor handed him the medicine and he downed the thick, purple liquid in one go, shuddering afterward.

“You know,” he said, pulling the quilt back over him and patting the seat next to him for Thor to sit, “you’d think they would figure out how to make it taste good by now.”

Thor laughed at that and followed his instruction to sit, planting himself farther away from Loki than he would have liked.

“How are you feeling?”

“I don’t think it works that quick,” Loki snorted, not too sick for sarcasm. “I bet this isn’t what you had in mind for our date.”

“Not exactly,” Thor admitted. For one, he had been pretty intent on kissing Loki again.

“Hmmm,” Loki hummed and snuggled closer, nudging Thor’s shoulder until he got the hint to wrap it around him, pulling Loki close and allowing him to burrow his head into Thor’s chest.

“Tell me what you had in mind,” Loki purred suggestively, drawing small circles with his fingertip on the back of Thor’s hand.

Thor _really_ barked a laugh at that. It was clear that even though it didn’t work _that_ quickly, there was still enough cold medicine in his system to make him loopy.

“Are you seriously trying to get me to dirty talk you right now?”

Loki buried his head into Thor’s side and Thor hated how his cock twitched in interest. Obviously, his body couldn’t register that Loki was sick regardless of how absurdly flirty he was.

“Maybe, is it working?” His voice came out a bit muffled where his lips and nose were pressed into the fabric of Thor’s shirt.

“Well, I was going to take you to dinner,” he started and as if on cue, Loki’s stomach rumbled. Of course, he probably hadn’t eaten all day and, given his condition, he probably hadn’t kept much down. “But now, I’m going to make you dinner. Move it.”

He nudged Loki gently and, though he whined in protest, he moved just enough to let Thor slip from his grasp. His body fell into the empty space with a soft _thud._

Thanks to the apartment’s open concept floorplan, Thor had no problem finding the kitchen. He ran his hand over the granite countertop, it’s surface smooth beneath his palm. The appliances were all stainless steel and top grade, which he would expect nothing less. Thor stood for a moment, trying to envision Loki standing at the high countertop, cutting vegetables to prepare dinner.

Maybe, Thor thought, one day.

This day, however, Thor was going to do the cooking. He pulled open the refrigerator and frowned, all daydreams of Loki cooking in the elegant kitchen dissipating. His stock was completely empty save for a carton of eggs, bottles of water and some slices of cheese. Loki had obviously never cooked a day in his life.

He moved onto the cupboards and rummaged through an alarming amount of canned food until his found one containing chicken noodle soup. That was fine, it was like the poster child for get-well-soon food. Through trial and error, he found the pots and pans and set to heating it up.

Since canned soup took a notoriously short amount of time to heat, Thor was returning to the living room about fifteen minutes later, cradling the bowl of soup in his hands.

Loki sat up, shifting under the blanket, and he handed it to him- warning him that it was hot. He ate in silence, timidly blowing on each bite before slurping it down in a way that Thor knew Loki would never do if he wasn’t sick.

They sat in silence, Loki eating and Thor watching with a soft fondness in his eyes. After a while, Loki slowed down, swirling his spoon in the broth and scraping the edge of the bowl. His eyes darted from Thor to the bowl and back to Thor.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed quietly, returning his attention to the soup and leaving it there.

“Don’t be,” Thor answered, slightly confused, “you’re sick.”

Loki let out an exasperated sigh and leaned over to set the bowl on the coffee table. He settled back and turned his body to completely face Thor. His face looked nervous and his lips quivered like he was on the edge of speaking.

That little voice in the back of Thor’s head told him this was the part where Loki let him down easy.

“Not because of that,” he paused and licked his lips, “I’m sorry for tricking you.”

Thor gulped and nodded, wringing his hands in his lap. There it was, the other shoe- finally, after all this time.

“I should have been honest about who I was upfront. I just…” he sighed and looked over at Thor with pleading eyes, slightly glossed over from the medication taking hold. “I meant it to be harmless.”

Thor’s stomach flipped, again, but this time with relief. The relief was so powerful, he almost laughed- but Loki’s pained expression told him it wasn’t the time or place. So, instead, he just smiled and reached over, pulling Loki to him.

Loki came willingly.

“I was mad,” Thor said into the unruly nest of Loki’s hair, “but I got over it. I like you now, that’s all that matters.”

Thor can feel Loki’s lashes flutter against him and his grip tighten its hold in Thor’s shirt.

“When did you start?” he whispers, his voice starting to slur with sleep.

The question caught him off guard and he found that he didn’t really have an answer. There were times when Loki made him upset and even more times when Loki had made him angry. Yet, somewhere those frustrations had turned into something else. If presented with a timeline, he’s not even sure he could pinpoint where.

“I don’t know,” he answered, quietly and honestly. “But, I know that I’ve thought about you every day since we met.”

Loki didn't respond, and Thor worried that he said the wrong thing- _again_. However, when he looked down, his gaze is met with Loki’s sleeping face- puffing out quiet, raspy snores. Thor smiled and brushed a stray curl plastered to his clammy forehead. He looked peaceful as he slept, and Thor found his heart swelling with an emotion bigger than both of them. Right then, he knew what he had to do. He was going to break up with Loki Laufeyson.

Then, he was going to properly ask him to be his boyfriend. No pretending.


	10. i'd jump in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, it's probably going to be all fluff and smut from here. These guys deserve some happiness. The ride is almost over.

Thor had stayed around after it was clear Loki was out like a light. He had tried— and failed— to wrestle him to the bedroom, and even though he wasn’t modest about his strength, picking up the deadweight of over six feet of lithe muscle wasn’t easy. So, instead, he had tucked him in on the couch. He doubted Loki would care, he snored and drooled into the leather of the sofa like he hadn’t properly slept in months.

Thor had cleared off the mess on the coffee table, washed the bowl of soup, and wiped down the counters before finally leaving, pressing a gentle kiss to Loki’s forehead. It was strange how natural his actions felt, like they hadn’t just spent months hating each other.

Maybe, Thor thought, he had never truly hated him to begin with.

 

* * *

 

 

His phone began ringing as he fumbled with his apartment key in the lock, jiggling it with frustration, reminding him that he needed to call the landlord. The ringing stopped and immediately started again, he gave a shove to the door and ungracefully tumbled inside as it gave way.

He fished his phone from his pocket—half expecting it to be Loki, fully disappointed when it was not.

“Odinson,” Brunnhilde greeted from the other line, “what are you doing this weekend?”

_I’m going to see if my fake-boyfriend wants to be my real-boyfriend._

“Nothing set in stone,” he decided to say instead.

“Wrong, you have a midnight flight Friday night.”

He stopped pouring Mjolnir’s cat food abruptly, causing her to meow in protest. He shifted his phone from its position cradled on his shoulder to his other hand and tried to process what she had just said.

“Excuse me?”

“The committee is taking a little trip, courtesy of Stark, to celebrate the campaign coming to a close,” she explained.

“Right. Shouldn’t we celebrate _after_ the election?”

“We will celebrate again,” she said as if that was obvious. Thor gave a noncommittal grunt and she sighed in response. He could practically see her pinching the bridge of her nose like she often did when he was feeling particularly stubborn. “Look, we all need a bit of a break. Aren’t you tired of entertaining Laufeyson?”

Oh right, that was his job in this mess—keep the opponent’s smarmy lawyer son in check, or something like that.

Only, that’s not what was happening at all.

“About that,” Thor started, testing the waters before diving right in, “I’m ending the charade with Loki.”

“ _What?”_

It was strange, she didn’t sound angry, just incredibly confused—like that was the last thing she expected him to say.

“But—I thought you liked him? Actually liked him? Shit, I guess I owe Stark fifty bucks.”

Thor bristled, noticing he was walking in circles in his living room and dropped to the couch.

“I do like him— Wait, you and Stark had a bet against me?”

Brunnhilde let out a laugh and Thor pouted because, well, there wasn’t anyone around to see it.

“Technically the whole team did and not just you, _you and Laufeyson_.”

Thor threw his head back against the sofa and groaned which only made Brunnhilde’s laughter in his ear grow louder—her teasing smile seeping through the phone.

“Do I want to know?”

“It was just that you two would end up getting together before this was up. I thought I had an advantage since I knew that you already had once.”

“Twice, if we are being technical.”

“ _What_?”

“Anyway, flight on Friday?” He said quickly, changing the subject. Brunnhilde let out a frustrated huff and he knew he wasn’t going to get away with not explaining that.

Luckily, she dropped it for the time being and gave him the flight and hotel details—asking why they were taking a red-eye flight and finding out it was due to a mistake on the airline’s part. Only one ticket was for midnight and since Thor hadn’t shown up to the meeting he, of course, was nominated as the lucky holder.

He began mentally preparing a list of clothing and toiletries he was needing to pack, as well as trying to remember where he had stuffed his carry-on suitcase when his phone vibrated once again. He smiled seeing Loki’s name, glad that he had finally woke up from his medicine-induced coma.

 Thor opened the message to find a picture of Loki, fully-equipped with bedhead and a sleepy smile, in the corner of the frame with the cleared coffee table in the background. Beneath it, the words _thank you_ and a heart emoji.

Huh, so he is an emoji guy after all.

 

* * *

 

Loki looked radiant across from him in the dim lights of the restaurant. He didn’t look like the same person Thor had nursed days before; his skin had regained some color and the bags under his eyes were gone. He’d swapped his sweatpants for a suit and although his nose was still a little red, all-in-all he looked good as new.

Loki insisted it was the soup and Thor insisted he was ridiculous.

Thor must have been staring because Loki lowered his fork slowly to dab at his mouth with the white linen napkin.

“Is there something on my face?”

“No, just, you look great.”

Better than great, honestly, but Thor wasn’t trying to push it. This—whatever it was shifting between them—was new and it was still better to tread carefully.

Loki huffed a laugh and tossed the napkin to the side.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Thor,” he said with a playful click of his tongue. Loki picked his fork back up to twirl it in his pasta, looking up at him with a small wink that made Thor’s stomach do a somersault.

“Flattery has got me this far,” he retorted, leaning back in his seat, unconsciously—or consciously—spreading his legs.

“Is that what you think? Are you sure it’s not just that you’re obnoxiously handsome?”

“There is a compliment hidden in there somewhere, I’m sure,” Thor hid the blush rising to his cheeks with a toothy, _obnoxious_ grin.

“Of course,” Loki said lowly as he ran his finger up and down the stem of his wine glass. “I only meant it as such.”

Thor is suddenly smacked with how much he had missed Loki like this, flirty and unrestrained, free from whatever the mental burden was that had plagued him the past months. Loki watched him, cautiously, and his playful smirk faded into something soft and almost adoring.

“What?” He asked.

“I’d just realized I missed you,” Thor replied truthfully. That’s what he wanted going forward, the truth.

Loki laughed at that, raising an eyebrow like he wasn’t sure what Thor was getting at.

“We’ve been seeing each other for almost six months,” his face saddened, and he casts his eyes down to where his fingers had started picking at the edge of his napkin. “I don’t see how you could miss me,” he whispered, jumping when Thor reached out to cover his fidgeting digits with the weight of his hand.

“It hasn’t been real,” Thor explained, realizing too late that was the _wrong_ way to say what he was trying to get across. Loki jerked his hand back and the look on his face called Thor back to other times he had seen him look this way—full of heartbreak.

“No,” he said quickly, reaching out and grabbing for Loki’s hand again, tightening his grip when he tried to pull away once more. “No, wait, let me explain.”

Loki looked at him skeptically but inched back into his seat, but the wall he could so easily will into existence remained—keeping him guarded.

“You have five minutes.”

That’s fine, Thor thought. He only needed one.

“I want it to be real,” he breathed. He was pretty sure that had been obvious, but they had been dancing around each other—stepping on toes and hearts—for months. He needed to be straight-forward now. “I think I’ve wanted it to be real for a long time.”

Loki didn’t say anything, just worried at his bottom lip and kept a steady glare on the ground.

“I think,” Thor said quietly, giving a reassuring smile when Loki decided to make eye contact again, “that you want it to be real too.”

_Please, tell me you want it to be real._

“Thor,” Loki breathed as he turned his palm in Thor’s hand and laced their fingers together. He was looking at him now, betrayal and hurt completely gone and replaced by something dark and promising. “I think we need to leave.”

Oh, _oh_.

“Now,” Loki gritted out.

Thor was suddenly blinded from the fact that they are in a very upscale restaurant, in a very visible part of town, surrounded by a very sizable amount of people. His caveman brain only wants one thing— to swipe the remains of their dinner to the floor, drag Loki onto the table, pop those buttons—

“I can’t,” his mouth said while his cock began to twitch in his pants to say: “ _Yes! You can!_ ”

Loki visibly deflated for the second time that night. Turns out, Thor wasn’t out of disappointments. You get a disappointment, and you, and you.

“I have a flight to catch tonight,” he said, and Loki’s eyebrows nearly inched off his forehead. “It’s stupid, but it’s only for the weekend, I’ll be back Monday.”

Loki gave a dramatic sigh, making a show of rolling his eyes and crossing his arms. But, there was a smile threatening to curl on his lips. “Fine, Odinson, I’ll wait for you a little longer.”

“When I get back we will consummate our relationship,” Thor promised with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Loki’s face finally cracked, and he laughed, a strangely child-like giggle that made Thor’s heart swell. How long had Loki been waiting? How long had Thor? It seemed to him, maybe, they were always trying to reach this point.

 

* * *

 

Loki drove him to the airport. It was difficult, extremely difficult, to keep his hands to himself. So, he fiddled with the button of his cuff until he was afraid it’d pop. So, he moved to strum his fingers on the door until Loki cut him a sharp look.

It was torture being so close to Loki with permission to touch and not being able to do so. If he started, Thor knew he would never stop. Then he’d miss his plane. Then Stark would yell at him. On the other hand, he could make Loki pull over and Thor could suck his cock—swallow him down and lick him clean, he doubted Loki would want a mess on his leather seats.

Thor shifted uneasily, cursing the way his body was responding to his own fantasy as if he were still in high-school with no control over his raging hormones.

“Afraid of flying?” Loki asked, looking over and taking stock of his thoroughly uncomfortable state.

“No,” Thor said truthfully, “I was thinking about sucking your cock.” He was surprised by how calmly he managed to get it out; like he was talking about something as bland as the morning crossword puzzle.

Thor felt the car jerk and he looked over to see Loki staring straight at the road ahead of them, knuckles gripped tight on the steering wheel. He smiled to himself. Though not as good as what his return home promised, ruffling Loki’s feathers sated him with satisfaction— for now.

 

* * *

 

 

The hotel was nice, really nice. Of course, Stark had booked it. The lady at registration was unnaturally chipper for three o’clock in the morning as she gave Thor his room key and rattled off the list of amenities the hotel provided. He wished her a good night—good morning? —and politely declined service from the bellhop, opting to haul his one suitcase himself. 

The room proved to be just as nice as the rest of the hotel, but his attention zeroed in on the king-sized bed and he flung himself on the fluffy, down comforter. If he closed his eyes he could…

No, he had promised a very twitchy Loki that he would call the minute he arrived— no matter the time. He was exhausted, but a promise was a promise.

Loki picked up on the second ring, voice raspy with sleep, “Thor?”

“I hope that’s the only person calling you at this hour,” he said, not too tired to unnecessarily tease.

Loki only hummed into the line and Thor could hear him shifting in bed, probably propping himself up to lessen the chances of drifting back asleep.

Speaking of sleep...

“Well, I made it in but, I’m really tired, I’ll call you—”

“No, that’s not why I wanted you to call.”

Thor sucked in a breath, heart sinking as he shuffled back on his elbows. The sudden fear that Loki had changed his mind about this—about everything—settled into his chest and it _hurt_.

“Loki—”

“No, Thor, you made my drive back home very hard,” Loki cut him off sternly. “Do you understand?”

Oh.

“I could barely stay focused,” he continued, a breathiness to his voice, “thinking about your mouth on me—thinking about you _thinking_ it—how much you must want it.”

All of Thor’s exhaustion disappeared and was replaced with an unbridled sense of _want._

“Do you want it?” Loki hissed on the other end of the line, already shaky.

“Yeah,” Thor replied, and he knew it sounded strained. He was already his hand down between his legs, palming at the flesh that began to fill and harden. “Yeah,” he repeated for good measure.

“Tell me, Thor,” Loki panted, and the noise sent a warm jolt through his body. “Tell me how you want my cock.”

He wanted it in more ways than he could properly explain with a brain clouded with sleep and lust. God, _he wanted_. Unfortunately, all his mouth would produce was a low whine. His hand worked faster through the fabric, pressing and rubbing as he easily drove himself into full hardness.

“Tell me.”

A wetness formed under his palm at Loki’s harsh command. Thor wanted nothing more than to unbuckle his slacks, pull himself out and pump to the rhythm of Loki’s breathy moans—but, he held back, waiting for permission.

It was unspoken, but Thor knew to get permission he needed to obey, and Loki had asked him a question.

“I want it in my mouth,” he somehow managed to get out. “It’s all I could think about in the car. Making you pull over so I could suck you off.”

Loki groaned, and it made Thor’s pulse quicken.

“I bet your cock tastes good,” he hissed as a particularly pleasurable wave pulsed through him. He wasn’t usually one for dirty talk, not like this. Honestly, he was probably going to look back and get embarrassed by the things coming out of his mouth, but Loki’s stuttering breaths on the other end urged this new, dark part of him to go on.

“I’m going to swallow you down, make you come just from my mouth— going to do it while I work you open.”

 _Ah_ , that earned Thor a strangled choke from Loki.

“You want that? You want me to drain you dry and then let you take my cock? Fuck you until you come again?”

“Fuck,” Loki hissed, and Thor knew he was close; he could tell by the heavy, sporadic panting in his ear.

Thor had been ignoring the way he was painfully straining against his zipper, so he frantically tugged at his pants until his cock was bobbing free, angry and red against his stomach. He didn’t touch it, even though his body begged him. If he did— it’d be over.

“Thor—I need—” Loki was lost, unable to articulate what it was he apparently needed. Thor knew though, he needed the release. “Thor,” he tried again, “Come. Let go.”

Like lightning, he took his neglected cock in his hand, spilling over his fingers with three strokes and heaving breaths.

They stayed quiet on the line, calming down from what transpired in a comfortable silence. Loki broke first, laughing lightly.

“Thor,” he said, and Thor hummed—sleep already setting in after such a well-needed orgasm. “That was supposed to be a punishment for giving me a hard-on in the car, but…”

It was Thor’s turn to laugh.

“If that’s your idea of punishment, I might have to piss you off more often.” Thor was surprised to know he was only half-joking. Man, this night was full of self-discovery.

“Don’t tempt me,” Loki whispered, trying to sound sultry but sounding more worn-out— which was about how Thor was feeling too.

“Nah,” Thor smiled, “I’m too tired. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Loki replied with a yawn. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Loki.”

They hung up and Thor did a half-ass job of cleaning himself up before shucking down to his briefs and crawling beneath plush covers. He tried to make a mental reminder to ask housekeeping for a fresh comforter in the morning.

It had— for all intents and purposes— been a very _good_ night and, for once in his life, he desperately wished for the weekend to end and bring Monday.  


	11. make a connection

It turned out, a mini-vacation wasn’t the worst idea. He could think of a few things that would make it better— namely: Loki, the in-suite jacuzzi tub, and a bottle of wine.

He was a romantic, what could he say?

Unfortunately, that would all have to wait and, he supposed, brunch with his friends wasn’t a bad alternative.

The café Tony picked was quaint— for his tastes, at least— but he raved that they had the best mimosas around. They sat outside, sun beating down in tandem with a cool breeze. The sky was blue, the clouds were fluffy, the birds were chirping and— _oh god —_ Loki was turning his brain into a Julie Andrews movie.

“So,” Brunnhilde said over the lip of her drink, eyebrow cocked and challenging. “How did Laufeyson take the break-up?”

From across the table, Stark choked on his eggs benedict. “Broke up?” he sputtered, before turning to Natasha with his hand palm-up. “Fifty bucks— pay up.”

Thor looked from person-to-person in confusion, until he remembered the betting pool they apparently had on his love life. But why did they think—

“Wait,” he said suddenly, leaning across the table on his elbows and pointing an accusatory finger at Tony. “You bet that we would break up?”

Tony’s smirk pulled into a frown. “Well, yeah,” he said—like he couldn’t honestly believe there was any other option. “Laufeyson is a full-tilt diva, I can’t believe anyone here thought it _would_ work out.”

The accusation was meant to be a joke, he could tell—he long since stopped finding offense in Stark’s sarcastic and, sometimes, blunt demeanor. Still, it didn’t make him any less irritated at the barb. Thor leaned back in the iron-rod chair, folding his arms across his chest. Natasha was already digging in her purse to make good on her losing bet.

Only, she hadn’t really lost, had she?

“Save it, Romanov.”

Natasha slowed her actions, watching him with a careful eye. Tony flexed his fingers towards her expectantly.

“I didn’t break up with Loki,” said Thor calmly, raising his mug of coffee to his lips, taking a sip and looking around the table to gauge the reactions of his friends.

“You said—”

“I only called off our arrangement. You all are the ones that told me there was no reason to pretend anymore. We are old news, Natasha’s plan worked.”

“So,” Stark drawled. “Calling off the arrangement? Breaking up? It’s the same thing.”

The rest of the table remained quiet. Brunnhilde watched him with a curious look, head tilted slightly. Suddenly, her eyes widened, and her mouth opened—a face of dawning realization.

“Loki and I are together,” he stated. He couldn’t deny the giddiness that tumbled in his stomach at saying it out loud. “For real, this time.”

“For real?” Brunnhilde asked.

“For real.”

Natasha smiled at him, purposefully ignoring Stark’s stunned expression. Brunnhilde leaned over and gently tapped the bottom of his chin, closing his gaping mouth.

“Good for you,” Natasha commented, finally turning her smug, triumphant gaze to Tony. “What was it you were saying about fifty dollars?”

Stark didn’t put up much of a protest, but he did shell out fifty bucks to Brunnhilde and Natasha. When Thor asked for pain and suffering compensation, Tony shot him a glare but _did_ pay for his meal.

 

* * *

 

 

Later on, Thor lounged with Brunnhilde and Natasha at the hotel pool. It was a nice, large enclosed space that had that chemical smell he always associated with swimming. The walls and ceilings were glass, fogged up with condensation allowing only dim rays of sunlight to enter. That didn’t stop Natasha from wearing a big floppy sunhat and sunglasses, or Brunnhilde from dropping a comically large glob of sunscreen on her nose.

Thor reclined in his lounge-chair with an elaborate fruity drink in hand— contained in a fake coconut cup and appropriately topped with a tiny paper umbrella. He found himself wishing, not for the first time, that Loki was with him.

Loki, his _boyfriend_.

He felt like a teenager and he loved it. Even if it _was_ a tad embarrassing for a thirty-two-year-old man.

Taking his phone from the side table, he held his arm outstretched to take a selfie, holding the ridiculous drink to the side of his face and grinned. If he just so happened to make sure his bare chest and muscles (that he worked very hard on) were in the shot— well, that was his business.

Five minutes after sending it to Loki, he received a response in the form of a picture. It was Loki, standing in front of his mirror, in his light-gray dress pants and crisp white button-up. A dark green tie was hanging loosely around his neck and his face was pinched in adorable serious concentration. Its only after the pang of how much he missed him passed that Thor noticed the hard line of his cock straining against the fabric.

Thor abruptly dropped his phone and silently prayed for his body _not_ to react the way he knew it wanted to.

“How cold is that water?” he asked Brunnhilde, who was slowly swimming lazy laps around the shallow end. He didn’t wait for her answer, just ungracefully jumped in, sinking to the bottom.

 

* * *

 

“Odinson,” Natasha called from one of the queen-sized hotel beds. Brunnhilde lay draped over her legs on her stomach, elbows propping herself up as she scrolled absently through her phone. Natasha, on the other hand, was looking intently at hers.

Thor grunted a confirmation that he heard her and continued to towel off the water from his hair and neck.

“Why didn’t you tell us Laufeyson was doing an interview today?”

His actions stopped abruptly— even Brunnhilde stilled, looking from Natasha to Thor with raised eyebrows.

He felt a lump form in the back of his throat and he dropped the towel into the floor a little harder than necessary.

“He didn’t tell me,” replied Thor, dumbly.

Brunnhilde _tsk’d_ at him and strained to reach the remote on the end-table positioned between the two beds. “Already secrets? That can’t be good.” Natasha gave her a light, playful smack on her shoulder— a bold move, considering the Brunnhilde was the type to hit back. She didn’t though, only pulled a weird grin, ducking her head— almost shy.

“It probably just came up last minute, don’t worry,” Natasha added, trying to reassure him. The panic and worry must have been obviously written on his face.

“Yeah,” Thor agreed, hesitating. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Loki, he did— now, at least. But, there was still that nagging self-doubt tormenting him in the back of his mind, in the pit of his heart.

It said: _This is all an elaborate prank. It’s just a joke, it’s just a trick._

Thor swallowed his dark thoughts and nestled himself on the edge of the opposite bed. Brunnhilde was already turning on the television, changing it to the appropriate channel.

“Should we get Tony?”

Natasha contemplated it before shaking her head. “No, I think if he has any more surprises his head will explode. Let’s just watch, this will probably be nothing.”

Thor couldn’t help but notice the way her eyes shifted at the word _probably._

He all but zoned out until the familiar silhouette of Loki strode onto the stage. There were two hosts, a brunette with a short crop and an older woman with a salt-and-pepper bob. Thor couldn’t place their names if he tried. Honestly, he didn’t really care. The memory of the last time Loki did an interview after one of their rendezvous played on a loop in his head.

“Thank you, Mr. Laufeyson, for joining us. We’ve heard it has been quite the hassle getting you to appear after you and Mr. Odinson became official,” the brunette smiled sweetly, looking from Loki to her co-host.

“Please, _Loptr_ is fine— Mr. Laufeyson is my father,” Loki replied, his real name sounded strange rolling off his tongue. Still, Thor knew he was turning on the charm. One half of the duo was already making heart-eyes from her seat.

The other half, the older woman, _not so much_.

“Yes, your father, which is what we are here to talk about,” she said curtly, a bit of edge to her voice.

Loki gave a tight-lipped smile— one that Thor recognized as his polite smile, with no _real_ politeness behind it. “Of course.”

“The election is ending. Your father and Odinson are neck and neck—”

“Well, Odinson does have a bit of a lead,” the younger of the two interrupted.

“Yes, well, it’s still close.”

Loki sat quietly while the hosts bickered back and forth. Thor watched his eyes dart around to something off-stage, probably trying to signal a producer to get them to reign it in. It must have worked because the older woman snapped her jaw shut, shifting away from her partner, to ask Loki if he felt his relationship created any source of bias.

“I don’t believe so, no.”

“You don’t believe so? Or it doesn’t?”

Thor could see the slightest twitch of Loki’s lip—he was getting irritated, and rightfully so.

“There is no bias. On election day I will vote for the candidate that shares the values closest to mine.”

The brunette nodded in agreement like it was the wisest thing she had ever heard. Her co-host, however, frowned.

“Forgive me, Mr. Laufeyson—”

“Loptr,” Loki corrected. She ignored him.

“But— that doesn’t sound like your father.”

“Pardon?” It was getting to be clear that Loki was having a harder time holding in his natural, vicious sass.

“Oh, it’s just that in the past your father has been outspoken against relationships such as the one you are in with his opponent’s son. I can’t imagine that’s been easy.”

Despite the growing tension on the television, Thor snorted to himself. It hadn’t been easy, she was right…but not because of that.

The younger girl gave Loki a pitiful smile and steepled her fingers on her desk. “She does have a point,” she said quietly like it pained her to do so.

“So—” the other woman pressed, “Mr. Laufeyson, can you give us here at Channel 7 your father’s endorsement?”

Thor was honestly impressed with how well Loki held himself. He had seen him fall apart over much less.

“As I have stated, I will give my vote to the candidate I most agree with politically— as I urge all voters to do.”

That clearly perturbed one-half of the hosts, but thankfully for Loki, a commercial break was being announced and the camera was zooming and panning away.

Natasha turned off the television with a loud click.

“Well,” she sighed out. “That was interesting.”

“What’s his game plan? That isn’t doing Laufeyson favors,” Brunnhilde questioned, looking to Thor as if he had any idea what that was all about.

“He didn’t directly endorse my dad,” Thor stated, but even he knew Loki all but had.

The girls each gave him a small sigh.

“No,” Natasha said thoughtfully, “he didn’t really have to. Did he?”

 

* * *

 

Thor debated whether or not to text or call Loki about the interview. Ultimately, he decided against it— it would be something best discussed in person. It was a strange thing, at the beginning of all this, Loki had been such a threat. An enigma that promised to dismantle their carefully constructed campaign. And, he had almost done it— albeit accidentally and with Thor’s help.

That interview though, it seemed purposeful and strategic. Thor knew that Loki wasn’t the perfect mastermind he liked to pretend to be, but he still knew better than to so blatantly distance himself from his families’ campaign.

Thor thought back to the day their entire charade started—the way Farbauti had jerked Loki around like a ragdoll, the way he had pleaded with her only to be ignored, the way all of Loki’s fondest memories were of his boarding school— not his family.

Okay, so maybe Thor couldn’t blame him.

 

* * *

 

 

He was tired. More tired than tired— exhausted. The weekend had passed by in a haze and Thor had enjoyed himself, truly. There had been no more phone calls from Loki quite like that first night, but somehow, that made Thor’s wanting worse.

So, even though he was beyond beat, he made the split-second decision to bypass the road to his apartment, make a U-turn and head straight to Loki’s high-rise.

It took three sturdy knocks and minutes— that seemed like years— for Loki to answer. He swung the door open, clad in only soft, gray pajama pants and a towel slung over his shoulder, his hair damp and dripping drops of water down his chest.

His eyes widened like he had seen a ghost. Which, to be fair, Thor probably looked a little worse for wear.

“Thor?”

Seeing Loki standing there fresh out of the shower, looking soft and inviting, body bare and with lean muscle— well, it jumpstarted something in Thor’s brain. Suddenly, he couldn’t entertain the thought of his hands being anywhere other than Loki’s body.

They met each other half-way, surging forwards simultaneously to press their lips together with a force that bordered painful. He grappled at Loki’s waist and Loki pawed his way up Thor’s button-up, pulling him forward so that Thor could kick the door closed behind him. 

There were no breaks between frantic, sloppy kisses, given with so much heat that Thor couldn’t be bothered to care when Loki pulled open his shirt sending the buttons bouncing over the hardwood. They were desperate touches, touches that had been denied for far too long.

There would be a time for slow, gentle caresses— but this was not it.

Loki finally broke apart, stepping back to admire Thor’s now-exposed chest. He licked his lips, wet with both of their spit, and it didn’t take long for Thor to notice the impressive bulge in Loki’s pants or the way his were already too tight.

He couldn’t take it anymore, shrugging his shirt the rest of the way off, he moved quickly forward, spinning them around and pressing Loki against the wall. Loki let out a soft moan as Thor leaned in closer, hands exploring the skin he’d been longing to touch. Loki’s head lolled to the side, exposing the expanse of his neck, still damp from the shower. Naturally, it called for Thor to suck tiny kisses into it— kisses that were driving Loki wild, if his labored breaths were anything to go by.

“I saw your interview,” Thor panted into the crook of Loki’s neck. He pulled back just in time to see the confused knit of dark eyebrows.

“What? Oh,” Loki breathed out, rutting his hips upwards to push against Thor’s growing erection. “Can we talk about it _after_ you fuck me?”

He knew, somewhat, that was where this was all leading but hearing Loki say it sent a pulse straight to his cock. He all but growled, low and feral, and dropped his hands to the waistband of Loki’s pants. He tugged, lightly, not hard enough to pull them down—asking for permission.

Loki slammed his head back against the door, managing to roll his eyes even in the heat of the moment.

“Come on,” he mumbled, and Thor’s pulse quickened at the low, soothing rumble of his voice. Loki must have noticed because he continued, a triumphant little smirk on his face. “Take them off.”

Like always, Thor had no will-power to disobey Loki’s command— and found he didn’t want to. He did as he was told, hooking his fingers on the waistband and yanking down both his pajama bottoms and underwear. Loki hissed as his cock bobbed free, already red and leaking at the tip.

Thor stared down between them, panting.

“Now,” Loki breathed out, obviously trying to stay collected. “What are you going to do? I think you promised me something.”

Oh, _right_ — Thor couldn’t help but redden remembering their phone call. Loki bucked his hips forward, the head of his cock rubbing against the skin right above Thor’s waistline, smearing pre-cum in its wake. He took hold of it, eliciting a delicious gasp from Loki’s lips. After a few less-than-coordinated tugs from the awkward angle, Loki was still practically keening.

“Bedroom,” Thor managed to get out, his own cock painfully hard, trapped in his pants. They needed lube, and a bed and they both needed to be naked. Loki, thankfully, nodded with fever and pushed him backward, sending Thor stumbling towards the hallway.

Loki directed them to a door at the back of the apartment. They pawed and kissed—needy and desperate—until they were a tangle of limbs. Thor didn’t have a clue where he was going, he had never been this deep into Loki’s home. He walked backward, blindly, until his legs met with the soft spring of a mattress. He fell back ungracefully and attempted to drag Loki with him. Loki, however, stepped out of his reach in order to pull off his shirt and kick his pants off the rest of the way.

The image of Loki, naked, before him was enough to send another pulse of pleasure to his aching cock. He reached down to tug at the zipper to finally relieve himself of the pressure.

“Ah, ah,” Loki chided, flashing him a well-controlled teasing smirk. Thor’s head fell back, and he whined in complaint—he wasn’t sure how much longer he could take waiting. Fortunately for him, Loki was just as eager, though he contained it well, Thor could still see the tremble in his hands as he leaned over him and popped the buttons of his jeans.

“Do you want these off?” he asked, obviously already knowing the answer.

“Yeah, come on already,” Thor growled between clenched teeth. There was a fine layer of sweat pooling along his hairline. Loki smiled and moved his hands tantalizingly slow—and Thor had half a mind to stop Loki’s little game right then and fuck him into the mattress.

Loki slowly skirted his finger along the sensitive skin below Thor’s navel and above his waistband; then snaked his hand upwards, tracing the lines of his muscles, stopping only to tease at a pert nipple. Loki’s eyes were an all-consuming darkness— pupils blown with a crazed desire that sent sparks down Thor’s spine.

 Then, something in him snapped and the game stopped: Loki snatched his pants down in one go. Thor’s cock ached, finally free and exposed to the cool air and Loki’s ravenous gaze.

“I’ve waited a long time for this,” Loki said, not wasting any more time and taking him in hand. Thor wanted to reply, wanted to tell him he had too, but he couldn’t— his mind was too busy being a mess of pleasure by _finally_ having Loki touch him. Finally, getting what they had both been wanting for months.

 _Finally_.

Loki thumbed the head of Thor’s cock, smiling like a shark— full of bloodlust and hunger— as he smeared down a fat bead of precum. Each stroke had his head spinning, but it wasn’t enough: he needed more. He told Loki as much, though it came out breathy and wrecked and Loki nodded in understanding.

Loki crawled up Thor’s body, straddling his hips and bringing himself close enough to take both of their cocks in hand. They simultaneously let out a breathy moan at the sensation of skin on skin—both leaking, slicking the way for it to teeter on the edge of good, but not quite good enough.

“Lube,” Thor managed to choke out.

There was a smile twitching on Loki’s face, each stroke of Loki’s wrist was tantalizing and slow. “Eager, are we?” It was easy for Thor to see through his charade, his chest was heaving with his own labored pants.

Thor growled under his breath, it was both a threat and a promise.

“Fine,” Loki sighed, though there was no real bite to it. He let go and crawled off to rummage through his nightstand and Thor immediately felt the absence. Though, he took the opportunity to shuffle back properly on the bed, propping himself up with his back against the headboard.

Loki turned back to him, lube in hand, and cocked an eyebrow, humming low under his breath. “Look at you,” he said, low and sultry, crawling back to drape himself over Thor’s lap.

Thor looked up at him, letting his hands run up his sides, down his back, and grabbing at the firm globes of his ass. He gave them a tight squeeze that had Loki’s mouth dropping open in a delicious moan as he rocked his hips down on Thor’s cock.

“I had so many plans, but I think I like you like this,” Thor said, and he was surprised by how steady his voice came out. “Sitting on my cock like a throne.”

Loki laughed at that, throwing his head back and looking utterly breathtaking in the moment. “Oh?” he questioned, slowly tilting his chin back down and moving his hips so that the head of Thor’s cock caught on his entrance—a movement that had Thor squeezing the lube onto his fingers eagerly. “What does that make me then, a king?”

Thor leaned up to press a wet kiss to Loki’s neck, smiling into the skin beneath his lips. “If that’s what you want,” he said simply. He might as well have been— Thor was prepared to give him anything he asked for; Loki had complete jurisdiction.

The angle was awkward for preparation, but Loki leaned up enough, rutting against Thor’s abs, to give room for a thick finger to slide in. Thor had plans to work him open slowly, to take his time, but the patience Loki had been exhibiting soon began to wane— in no time he was fucking himself back on three fingers, panting and begging for more.

“I’m ready,” Loki breathed out. His eyebrows were knit together, and his teeth bared—completely and utterly debauched in a way that Thor had seen before, yet still somehow, different. It was rawer, more powerful.

Thor wanted to flip Loki over on his back, to be able to see every detail of his face as he fucked into him. But, Loki was already slicking up Thor’s cock, leaning upon his haunches to distance himself from the fingers still buried inside him. The second they slipped out, he was already guiding Thor back into him, pushing back with little finesse— too desperate to have any real elegance.

“I’m going to ride you,” Loki stated matter-of-factly, “if that’s okay?” And, yeah, Thor could get on board with that. How could he argue when Loki pushed down, and he felt himself breech the tight muscle? Thor let him know just how okay it was by thrusting up, inching further inside, throwing his head back as Loki all but keened.

He was so beautiful: guard down, open and vulnerable, black curls hanging in his face, eyes closed in concentration as he sunk down on Thor’s cock, a thin glistening sweat on his body. Fuck, Loki was definitely going to have to shower again after this.

Thor watched as Loki lowered himself, slowly and in brief intervals. He sat still for a moment, hands on Thor’s chest, worrying at his bottom lip. Thor only watched in marvel as he soothed circles with the pads of his thumbs in the dips of Loki’s hips.

“Move,” Loki whispered a moment later, and Thor obeyed.

His first thrusts were slow and rhythmic, and he relished in the intense pleasure he found inside Loki. There was a loud moan gasped between them and Thor couldn’t tell who it came from— maybe both. Then, Loki raised up and dropped himself down with such a force it was almost blinding.

“C’mon, Thor, fuck me.”

And, who was Thor to deny Loki anything?

The soft, gentle grip he had on Loki’s hips turned hard and he used his strength to haul Loki up, to the edge of slipping out, and then slammed him back down again. Loki let out a cry so loud, Thor was almost positive the neighbors heard—which, in turn, drove him to do it again. And, again. And, again. Until Loki was left a whimpering mess and Thor was reduced to guttural groans.

Loki’s cock bobbed between them, weeping and curving up towards the stomach muscles contracting with each slap of their skin. It was practically begging for Thor to wrap his hand around it— so, he did— and Loki hissed at the contact.

It only took several, admittedly sloppy, tugs of his hand to unravel him. Loki pulsed between them, painting warm, wet stripes over Thor’s chest. The sight alone was almost enough to make Thor spill right there.

Thor worked him through it, easing up on his relentless thrusting. Still, he was close, _very_ close. Loki gazed down at him with hooded eyes, looking happy and sated, and rolled his hips lazily with a half-smile slapped on his face.

“Back,” Thor instructed, and Loki blinked twice at him before lifting himself up and laying back on the mattress. He spread his legs, languid eyes beckoning Thor to follow.

This time, when Thor slipped inside and began to move, it was slow and unrushed— an almost tender pace. Loki wrapped his legs around Thor’s waist and tried to quicken the stride, but he didn’t give in. Thor fucked into him lazily, running his hand through Loki’s hair, grasping at it as he pulled breathy, little moans from Loki’s lips. It didn’t take long for the intimacy of the entire exchange to catch up with him, and his movements became more sporadic, quicker and more urgent.

“In me,” Loki instructed as Thor attempted to pull away. He pushed into the small of Thor’s back with his heel, keeping him firmly in place. “In me, do it.”

Thor’s orgasm overtook him, a blinding white behind his eyes as he spilled into the willing body beneath, feeling Loki’s muscles contract around him— milking him dry.

“ _Fuck_ , Loki.”

“Yes, we did,” Loki hummed as Thor sank limp, boneless, on top of him. “Quite good also, I might add.”

Thor buried his nose into the crook of Loki’s neck, damp with sweat, and laughed into it.

“Let’s just stay like this.”

“With you inside me?” asked Loki incredulously.

“Why not?”

“Well, for one thing, I’m not a teenager anymore. As desirable and attractive as I think you are—I’m not going to be up for round two any time soon.”

Thor lifted his head to waggle his eyebrows. “You think I’m desirable?”

“You’re an idiot,” Loki said with no venom and all smile.

 

* * *

 

The following days were hectic and, much to Thor’s disappointment, he didn’t see a lot of Loki. It was the last run of the election and even though his brain was addled with _I-finally-fucked-my-boyfriend_ haze, he was still nervous for the results to pour in.

Thor knew, because Natasha had firmly assured all of them, that his father was going to win. Still, it didn’t stop the conference room erupting in thunderous applause when the news anchor confirmed it. There were a lot of hugs, a lot of tears, and somewhere, a confetti cannon.

The after-party was much more entertaining.

Stark had rented out a downtown bar, a small hole in the wall with what Brunnhilde called “hipster charm”. Drinks, of course, were on the house. Thor, of course, used that as an excuse to get drunk.

 It didn’t take long for him to text Loki the address, begging him to come.

Thor waited for him outside the bar, brain swimming with one-too-many tequila shots. He made a mental note to himself to never go head-to-head with Brunnhilde when it came to anything alcohol related.

A dark figure approached him, and Thor squinted his bleary eyes to make out the shape: tall, dark, bundled in a peacoat and scarf, wind-reddened cheeks, insanely handsome.

“Loki!”

Loki huffed a laugh, “Yes, it is _I_ , the disgraced Laufeyson.”

Thor threw his arm over his boyfriend, tugging him closer—Loki stumbled after him, looking a bit bewildered.  “I don’t think you're disgraced,” he said in what he thought was a completely stable tone. “You’re— you’re— _graced_.”

Thor smiled, big and toothy, clearly pleased with his _obviously_ genius flirtation.

“And you’re drunk,” Loki remarked, pushing him lightly but not enough to really pry him away.

“S’only a little.”

“Hmm, you smell like a bottle of cheap liquor.”

“That’s my new cologne,” Thor replied, cheeky.

Loki rolled his eyes fondly and pressed himself into Thor’s side. He smiled, but it was distant— his brows furrowed together. Thor wasn’t too drunk to know something was off.

“Hey,” he cooed, trying not to slur. “What’s wrong?”

Loki stared pensively at the door of the pub.

“Is it really a good idea for me to be here?”

Thor blinked at him, studying his face—which was only swirling and blurring _slightly_.

“Of course, they’ll love you!” A hiccup. “Know why?”

Loki fixed him with a look, eyebrow cocked. “Enlighten me,” he responded, dryly.

“Because, _I_ love you.”

Loki stared at him a long time, a cold wind whipping between them. His eyes were wide, searching Thor’s face for something— truth, maybe?

“You’re drunk,” Loki stated again.

Thor only shrugged.

“Okay,” Loki breathed out, shakily, but smiling. “Okay,” he repeated again, but more stable.

Loki laced their fingers together and leaned in to press a chaste kiss against Thor’s lips. Thor stumbled into it, a drunken smile on his face. He turned them towards the door, tightening his grip on Loki’s hand.

“Let’s go,” he said, and Loki nodded.

And, they went. Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo, ya'll. This chapter took me forever to write. I debated doing a small epilogue but decided against it. I hope the ending didn't seem too rushed, I've honestly just been having trouble with it and my classes are about to start back up. I wanted these two to have a smutty, fluffy, send-off. Thank you to everyone who stuck through this story until the end! This is by far, the longest...anything...I've ever written. I do plan to go back to previous chapters and touch up some places. I know there are some parts where I skip around with past and present tense (an outgoing issue for me). This is also the very first explicit smut scene I've ever written...so, that was something. 
> 
> Again, thank you for reading! It was a definite learning experience for me.   
> I hope you enjoyed the ride. 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at:   
> shineonloki.tumblr.com
> 
> Your comments, as always, mean the world to me.   
> <3


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